


I belong to you, you belong to me

by phthalo



Series: I belong to you, you belong to me [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kid Fic, Parents Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 278,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phthalo/pseuds/phthalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks after dragging your boyfriend's sorry ass out of the Underworld is not the ideal time to find out you're pregnant.</p><p>It's probably also not the ideal time for Zelena's time portal to spit out some kid...a teenage boy with blonde hair and Killian's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything, so hopefully it's not a mess (it's probably a mess).

Emma had felt fatigued for weeks. She wasn't normally a nap person, but lately she found herself dozing whenever she had the opportunity. She attributed her exhaustion to recent events: being the Dark One, turning her boyfriend into a Dark One, having to kill said boyfriend and then rescue him from the Underworld, being in a near-constant state of mortal peril, etc.

When she started feeling nauseous and throw-uppy, she thought it was just the flu. December was the beginning of flu season, after all, and even Storybrooke, for all its magic, was not immune. She drank a few extra glasses of orange juice, indulged in a handful of those naps her body so craved, and it seemed to pass.

She was just beginning to feel as if everything was back to normal.

Until this afternoon, that is.

It had been a slow day at work (a slow week, actually) so she decided to order Granny's as a reward for catching up on paperwork she'd been neglecting since, well, almost since she became Sheriff. 

Her stomach was rumbling hungrily by the time her lunch arrived. However, as she unwrapped her sandwich and got that first whiff of toasted bread and hot cheese, a smell which would normally set her mouth watering, her insides began heaving furiously.

She sprinted to the bathroom, knocking over a chair and accidentally kicking a small waste basket across the room in the process.

After she finished emptying  her stomach of everything she'd eaten that morning (and maybe the last year, too, because when was the last time she ate anything _that_ shade of purple?), her head cleared, and the realization hit her.

She was pregnant.

Probably.

_Definitely._

That's how she found out the first time, with Henry. In prison, she had earned wages working in the library. On her first trip to the commissary she bought the one thing she missed most -- well, next to Neal, but that feeling was all mixed up with other feelings like heartbreak and betrayal, so she generally just tried to forget his existence -- and treated herself to some PopTarts. Intending to savor the experience, she put the PopTart right up her nose, inhaled deeply, and then BAM! she was vomiting all over the floor of her cell, a corrections officer was rushing her to the infirmary, and the prison physician was giving her a little plastic stick to pee on.

Suddenly, a few other things began to make sense: crying over an old picture of her and Henry the other day, crying over a recent picture of her and Henry this morning, and her inability to evict the spider that had taken up residence in her car because it was just so precious.

A _spider_ , for God's sake.

_But wait, there's more!_

She was also experiencing a _quirkiness_ (for lack of a better word) with her powers. Yesterday, for example, she tried to reheat her tea and ended up melting the entire mug. She didn't even know ceramic could melt.  

She had initially thought that incident and other malfunctions were due to her light magic recovering from its entanglement with dark magic, but now she put it on the "Reasons I Should Have Realized Earlier That I'm Pregnant" list (as well as the "Things I Didn't Know Were A Side-Effect of Pregnancy" list).

Emma squeezed her eyes shut.

 _I'm such an idiot,_ she berated herself. _I've been through this before, why didn't I notice?_

She knew why.

 _You thought that if you ignored it, it might go away, it might not be true_. _Things are finally coming together, and this has the potential to tear down everything you've built._

_Well, idiot, what are you going to do now?_

She was going to find out for certain, that was what.

Not that she didn't already _know_. She just needed something to make it _real_. Specifically, she needed a little piece of plastic and two pink lines to make it real.

Once it was real she would figure out how to tell Killian.

She decided to take a half day. She was in charge so she could do that, right? Her hands were surprisingly steady as she took out her phone and began tapping away at the screen.

Texting Killian was out of the question -- he would rush home to make sure she was okay, and she would lose her privacy -- so she texted David.

_I'm headed home early. Stomach bug. Are you okay covering for me?_

He was out on patrol, but even so he was always quick to respond.

While she waited, she got her things ready to go. She re-wrapped her grilled cheese (trying not to breathe while she did so), attached a sticky note with "not contaminated" written on it, and left it on her dad's desk. She looked at it somewhat sadly. She had really, really been looking forward to that sandwich.

_Great, now I'm getting emotional over a sandwich._

As an afterthought, she righted the chair she had knocked over in her rush to get to the toilet, and fetched the waste basket from across the room, restoring it to its rightful place next to one of the desks.

She was surprised at how well she was handling the situation.  She supposed that was because it was still in that in-between phase, where it was real but not quite real enough for her to begin truly panicking.

After five minutes of waiting she decided to leave. Storybrooke could survive a half hour without one of its sheriffs, couldn't it? Worst case scenario, she would have to return to the station after...

_After._

She couldn't bring herself to think of the after yet.

She locked the station doors on her way out -- the Sheriff's Department was the proud new owner of three brand new, state-of-the-art computers, and Emma didn't dare tempt Will Scarlet. To be honest, she wouldn't trust Will Scarlet not to steal the damned  pencils if he thought he could pawn them for a bottle of whiskey. He'd been causing some trouble since they'd returned...but that was a problem for another day.

Today -- right now -- she had only one job, and that was finding out exactly how much her life was going to change in the next few months.

It was a typical freezing cold day in early December. The sky was iron gray and had been for a week. There was no snow yet, but it was coming soon, she knew.

Emma drove to a pharmacy close to the edge of town (where she was unlikely to run into anyone she knew) and sidled along the aisles until she found the pregnancy tests.

The different brands gave her pause (she hadn't exactly had options in prison).

How did she want the results presented: two pink lines, a smiley face, or "PREGNANT"/"NOT PREGNANT"? "PREGNANT" felt like someone was shouting at her, so she put that one aside. What about the smiley face? Now, that was ambiguous. Was it smiling because hooray she was about to embark on the joyful journey that was motherhood, or smiling because phew she really dodged a bullet there?

In the end she went the traditional route: two pink lines. She bought three because, well, she needed to be certain.

Her resident spider crept onto the dashboard and kept her company as she drove home. She took the long way back to the house, avoiding places where she might see Killian. Or rather, where Killian might see her (the yellow bug was less than inconspicuous, and he would certainly see her before she saw him).

Killian was spending his days keeping busy. He was determined to _settle in_. Since returning from the Underworld he had shadowed at least eleven different people in eleven different trades.

Today he was at the docks, learning modern boat maintenance. Turned out, Captain Hook didn't actually know too much about repairing a boat. Three centuries of making other people do the work for you will do that to a guy.

So far, Killian fit in... _nowhere_.

And that was the main reason why _now was not a good time_.

She pulled up to the curb in front of the house and, before she could lose her nerve, stuffed the little paper bag with the pregnancy tests into her jacket and went inside.

She went straight to the upstairs bathroom and ripped opened all three packages with suddenly shaky hands.

Emma was certain of the results, but she did all three of the pregnancy tests just to be safe.

She laid the tests out in a row on the sink, washed her hands, and sat on the edge of the tub to wait.

She stared at her hands. They were still trembling. She balled them into fists, willing them to stop, but the trembling crept up her arms and through her chest until she was shaking all over.

She wished Killian was there to hold her hand and rub her back and calm her down -- but no, she couldn't tell Killian. Not yet.

And now the panicking began, because even though the results weren't in yet she knew -- goddammit, she'd known for a while -- that she was pregnant and this would change _everything_. The problem was, would it change for better, or worse?

_What are you going to do?_

What did she do last time?

Last time was different. Last time she just sat in prison and waited to have a baby.

_Well, that's not exactly helpful._

What were her options? 1) Have the baby. 2) ...well, there was really only one option.

That thought bolstered her slightly. No matter what, she was going to have a _baby_ , and that baby would be _hers and Killian's_. She held tightly to that thought and used it as a shield against the anxiety that threatened to eat away at her again.

Deciding she could finally face the results, she went to the sink. Three pairs of matching pink lines stared back at her.

She was pregnant.

A moment of...not peace, exactly, but calm. She had her answer. She could tell Killian. And then her and Killian would figure out how this was going to work.

But then fear gripped her suddenly.

 _She was pregnant_. She was pregnant and _throwing up_.

Throwing up meant she was around 9 weeks (she had found out she was pregnant with Henry at 9 weeks), and 9 weeks put the date and place of conception firmly in the first few weeks in Camelot.

_In Camelot she'd been the Dark One._

Houston, we have a problem.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks after dragging your boyfriend's sorry ass out of the Underworld is not the ideal time to find out you're pregnant.
> 
> It's probably also not the ideal time for Zelena's time portal to spit out some kid...a teenage boy with blonde hair and Killian's eyes.

**3 weeks earlier.**

Killian couldn't sleep.

To be fair, sleep was something he was used to not getting: he hadn't slept more than five hours a night since around the time he turned 200 years old (and that was only _partially_ due to his customary nighttime activities). It just seemed his body didn't need much sleep anymore.

But his insomnia wasn't a symptom of his (extreme) old age, or even a side-effect of being recently very, very dead. It was the memories of his time as the Dark One that kept him awake.

For the first three nights after his and Emma's return from the Underworld, he lay awake while Emma slumbered peacefully next to him. He would hold Emma in his arms, pressed against his side so tightly he could feel her heartbeat against his ribs. For a time their hearts, two halves of one whole, would beat in sync. He had focused on that feeling, using it as an anchor to hold himself in that moment.

Eventually, Emma's heartbeat would begin to slow as she fell asleep, and Killian's control unraveled. His thoughts would grow louder and louder until he was reliving all of his worst moments as the Dark One on an endless playback.

He remembered every terrible thing he'd said to Emma; every injured expression his words elicited.

This filled him with so much shame and regret he felt as if he was crumbling on the inside, like a cliff face slowly collapsing into the sea.

Eventually the feeling would become too much to bear. And so, for three nights, instead of sleeping, he paced the house. He would move from room to room, becoming more and more restless as the hours passed.

Most of the rooms in the house were empty, and even the ones that weren't didn't feel _lived in_.

The house was a shell.

And that made his insides crumble a little bit more, because this house was supposed to symbolize their future together.

Killian had played a very large part in destroying that future.

He had been weak. He had _given in_ to the darkness.

And why?

Because he was angry. Because he was scared.

He had let his fear turn him into a coward.

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets._

His own words echoed in his ears, mocking him.

On the fourth night, fully expecting to spend another 8 or so hours roaming the dark house by himself, he was surprised out of his misery by Emma's voice.

"You awake?"

Her question hung in the air for a few moments. He was afraid to speak; afraid she'd hear the bleakness in his voice.

"Yes, love," he whispered back.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

And he knew _it_ meant _everything_.

They'd made their apologies in the Underworld, and yet something remained broken between them.

Emma turned the lamp next to the bed on and sat up against the headboard. Killian did the same, and then watched as she adjusted the pillows and blankets for a while, clearly stalling for time. The conversation to follow would likely either mend them, or tear them apart forever. It seemed neither of them really knew how to begin it -- or wanted to begin it.

 Finally, she seemed satisfied and turned to face him.  She had all her hair slung over one shoulder, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. God, she was _beautiful_. He drunk in the sight of her desperately, like a man about to die.

He curled his good hand into a fist, seeking control, trying not to think of what he would do if he lost her _again_.

"I don't want to lose you again," Emma said.

Killian blinked at her. Had she read his mind?

"I'm sorry for everything I did to you," she continued.

_Oh, Swan, I've already forgiven you for all that._

He understood the defiant look on her face. She regretted what she'd done, but she couldn't take it back. She was ready to have her heart broken, if that was what he decided -- if he decided he couldn't put the past behind him and move forward.

He realized he had a problem. His problem was, he was the biggest _asshole_ (and possibly the biggest _idiot_ ) in all the realms.

He'd been given a second chance, and here he was, squandering it because he was too wrapped up in his own guilt.

"Swan, it's me who needs to apologize."

She looked confused.

"I regret so much. I've forgiven _you_ , but I've been unable to forgive myself."

As he confessed, he felt the knot of guilt inside him slowly loosening.

"I accused you of not trusting me, when in fact your actions proved just how much you believed in me. I turned my back on you, when I should have _returned your trust_."

She watched him, mouth quivering, tears pooling in her eyes.

He was surprised at how steady his voice was.  

"I know what kind of man I want to be, Swan, and it's not one that dwells on the past and can never move forward. I promised you a future together, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to make that future happen."

His voice broke, at the end.

Before he knew what was happening, Emma was in his arms. He buried his face in her shoulder, hand fisted in her hair. He was never letting go of her. He was going to hold her here in his arms like this for the rest of their lives.

"I know I messed things up," she whispered against his neck. "I was afraid to give in to love...but I'm not scared anymore. I have faith in _us_. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make our future happen, too."

He squeezed her tighter. Waves of relief washed over him. He had been so afraid this conversation would signal the end.

"I love you," she breathed.

"I love you, too," he said.

That night, they made love for the first time since returning from the Underworld.

Killian thought they were going to break the bed.

Before, opportunities to _be alone together_ had been few and far between. When they _were_ able to find chances, they had always had to be careful -- careful not to make too much noise, careful not to arouse too much suspicion, careful not to get carried away. Lovemaking between them had been cautious.

In truth, Killian had been afraid to overwhelm her with his passion, afraid to scare her away.

In Camelot, the meadow had been the first time he'd really loosened his hold on himself. Because he _needed_ to show Emma how much he loved her; he needed her to know exactly what she did to him, how wild she drove him. He needed her to lose herself in that moment, in him, so she didn't lose herself to the Darkness.

This time, Killian held nothing back. He drove into her again and again as hard as he could. She moved with him, making soft, encouraging noises in his ear. He came first, with a shout he didn't bother muffling. This was _their_ house, he could be as noisy as he bloody pleased. He wasted no time slithering downwards and putting his tongue to work between her legs, until her own release left her trembling.

From now on, this house was going to be filled with sounds of love -- from quiet whispering in bed, to laughter, to screams of pleasure.

The past was _dead_. The future was _now_. Tomorrow, they could start rebuilding.

They both fell asleep easily afterwards, and Killian awoke with Emma still snuggled against his side.

She was already awake, and watching him serenely. She smiled at him.

"I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful."

"Thank you, Swan." He planted a kiss on top of her head, breathing in the floral scent of her hair.

"So, what do we do now, _Captain_?" Emma asked, lips quirking playfully. She was still mostly naked. Killian felt a _stirring_.

_Oh, this one knows exactly what she's doing._

"Now, Swan, I think it's time we got our future back on track. _Together_."

"Can we maybe stay in bed a little bit longer, and _then_ talk about our future?" She trailed a finger slowly down his chest, over his belly button, and then _below_ , following the trail of hair. 

His breath caught. "If the lady insists."


	3. Chapter 3

Bit by bit, Emma and Killian put a plan together for rebuilding their future.

Emma's list was rather simple: 1) No more secrets. 2) No more doing things alone. 3) Wear a dress at least twice a week ("Killian, get that off there!" "No, love, it's staying.") 4) Always remember to believe in love.

Killian's list was a bit more... _complicated_.

Part 1) Adapt to the modern world (a.k.a. get a job and learn how to drive a car).

Part 2) Remind Emma very often and very _vigorously_ just how beautiful she is ("If you can put something on my list, I can put something on your list." "Fair enough.")

Part 3) Fill the house with furniture that didn't feel like it belonged to someone else ("What, you don't like my decorating?")

Part 4) Learn how to use the coffee maker.

Part 5) Try a Cinnabon ("Wait, now Henry's putting things on the list? When did you even show it to him? Did he see part two? Please tell me he didn't see part two.")

Part 6) Prove to Emma, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she can rely on you, and will never have to do anything alone ever again ("You don't have to do that, you know." "Yes, I do.")

Part 7) Live happily ever after.

Killian's plan was complex, so they called in reinforcements. Henry, David, and Mary Margaret all volunteered to help.

Because sometimes _not alone_ didn't just mean _Killian and Emma_ , it meant _Killian and Emma and Henry and Mary Margaret and David whoever else wants to join the bloody club_.

They took a look at the list (well, the parts of the list that were appropriate for public viewing) and his plan was underway in no time.

Henry dubbed it Operation Lionfish (Killian and David had both -- very loudly -- nixed Operation Sea Snake).

The first step was compiling a list of possible job opportunities (because apparently pirating was not a viable option).

"Sheriff's Department," Emma and David both said together.

"No," Killian answered immediately. He had been expecting it. The Sheriff's Department was Emma's thing. He needed to find his own thing.

"Okay," Emma crossed "Sheriff's Department" off the list with a pencil.

"Library," Henry said.

Killian considered for a moment, and then agreed with a nod.

"The school," Emma suggested.

"I'm hardly a role model for children, Swan," he said, and dismissed it with a careless wave of his hook. A strange expression crossed Emma's face. It disappeared quickly, but not quick enough. Killian saw, and wondered at it.

Was she worried about Henry? She hadn't seemed to mind Killian being around the boy before. In fact, Killian greatly enjoyed Henry's company. He thought back to Henry's bewilderment when Killian and David had both shouted "NO!" after he suggested "Operation Sea Snake". The lad was an absolute treasure: wise, and yet still innocent in so many ways.

Killian knew that Henry was also fond of Killian. Had Emma's opinion on whether or not Killian and Henry should spend time together changed since...well, since he had become the Dark One and tried to send her entire family to the Underworld for eternity?

Or was it something else?

Did she...did she perhaps want more children? With Killian?

The thought filled him with a mix of emotions.

Emma had Henry, and that had always seemed enough for her. Killian had thought, what with how everything had gone the first time (with Baelfire) that she wanted to keep _this_ relationship more simple (not that their relationship had been anything even approaching simple since the beginning).

Killian had felt safe in his belief that she would never ask fatherhood of him (except where it concerned Henry, and that was hardly _fatherhood_ since the boy was mostly grown and had more parents than you could count on one hand). That had all suited him just fine, because how could he raise a family of his own when he'd destroyed so many?

But now, he realized he had been foolish for not realizing sooner that it may have been a possibility, that Emma's vision of their future together may have included a little lad or lass (or multiple lads and lasses...the thought made Killian gulp).

Did Emma want their future to include children? He had vowed that they would build their future _together_. If Emma asked him to be a father, if Emma wanted to start a family with him, could he do it?

Killian was so consumed by his thoughts that he was only half-listening to what was going on, and in the end he was presented with a list of 15 jobs that he didn't remember agreeing to.

Mary Margaret said she would make some calls and schedule an "apprenticeship" with each job so he could try them out and decide which suited him best.

Killian looked over the jobs on the list and grimaced. He wasn't optimistic about any of them. But he was going to do it. For Emma. For their future.

His doubt proved to be well-founded.

Each "apprenticeship", in turn, ended up terribly, for various reasons. His worst day was spent with Leroy. Killian didn't know much about electricity, but he knew enough to understand that an electrician with a metal hook for a hand was idiotic.

His last hope was the docks, but even that was a tremendous disappointment. He thought he would feel at home with the ships, smelling the sea, listening to the waves and the cries of the seagulls, but all he felt was awkward and out of place.

Killian was very near just burning down the entire harbor out of frustration (how could he not enjoy being near ships and the sea he was a bloody _pirate_ ) when David texted him, asking if he wanted to get a start on learning to drive.

And that was how he ended up on narrow dirt road in the middle of the woods, sitting in the driver's seat of a squad car with David riding shotgun.

"Just take it slow," David said.

Killian tried not to glare. _Patience_ was not a word in his vocabulary.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand (his _only_ hand), and eased his foot off the brake. The car slid into motion. They crawled along the lane so slowly Killian was certain a tortoise could have kept pace alongside them. But that was fine. More than fine, in fact. He could do this...

"Give it some gas," David encouraged.

Holding his breath, Killian did as directed.

The car jumped forward faster than he expected, startling him. He jerked the steering wheel in alarm, sending the car careening into the bushes . He managed to swing the car back onto the road, narrowly missing a tree. As soon as he felt all four wheels on the dirt road again he slammed on the brakes.

Both he and David were thrown forward slightly. Killian sat breathing heavily through his nose, watching the billowing clouds of dust they'd kicked up slowly dissipate.

"It's okay. That was a good start. Try again," David said after a minute, and then added hastily when he saw the look on Killian's face, "When you're ready."

Suddenly, David's phone chimed.

 _Saved by the bell_ , Killian thought, although he had no idea what it meant -- Emma just said it sometimes. He kept his foot firmly planted on the brake while David dug his phone out of his pocket.

"It's a text from Emma," he said, glancing at the clock on the dashboard and then back at his phone. "It's, ahhhhhhhhh, from half an hour ago. Reception out here is terrible..."

"Is everything alright?" Killian asked, in response to David's crinkled brow.

"She went home," he said slowly. "She's not feeling well."

"Did she say what's ailing her?"

"Stomach bug," said David, "It's been going around."

"You mean that bloody virus that turns you inside out with vomiting?" Killian asked, alarm building. "We have to go back."

To his great relief, David didn't ask him to drive back to town. They sped through the woods faster than was probably safe. Killian, now that he'd been behind the wheel of a car and understood a little more about them, admired David's easy handling of the vehicle.

On the way, they stopped at the grocery store. David helped him buy something called Gatorade (which came in all sorts of ludicrous colors), which he said would help keep Emma hydrated while this stomach bug wrung her out like a dish towel.

Killian exited the car with a hurried "Thanks, mate" and dashed into the house.

"Emma!" he called, setting the Gatorade on the kitchen table. He waited, listening, but there was no response. Panic gripped him. What if she was passed out? It had been a long time since she had sent David that text; anything could have happened in between then and now.

"Emma!" he called again, louder. He heard a muffled "Here!" from somewhere upstairs, and followed her voice to the second floor bathroom. She opened the door just as he was about to knock on it.

She was smiling, but he could tell she'd been weeping. His breath caught. He got that crumbling feeling inside.

_What's wrong?_

"Everything alright, love?" was all he could manage to say.

"I'm fine," she answered. Killian didn't believe her. He may not be a human lie detector, but he _could_ read Emma Swan. He had spent too much time breaking down her walls to not know when she was putting one up.

"Your father said you had a stomach bug," Killian persisted.

She shrugged.

"False alarm, I guess. I just felt a little sick this morning, that's all. I'm better now," and she tried another of those false smiles.

Sick, in the morning? He couldn't stop himself from glancing at her stomach. She caught him looking and folded her arms tightly across her chest, mouth settling into a stubborn frown.

Was she...?

 _No_ , thought Killian. _Emma wouldn't keep that a secret from me. We said no secrets!_

_She might keep it a secret if she thought you didn't want to be a father, which is essentially exactly what you told her the other day._

Sirens started blaring in his brain.

_Danger! Danger!_

He had to save the moment.

"Let's go on a date," he blurted, before he could think.

That caught her off guard. She blinked at him. "A what?"

He wasn't sure what had made him say it. Part of him was still panicking because _Oh, shit_ , but another part was screaming at him to show Emma that she would never be alone again, in anything, no matter what.

_No matter what._

That realization hit him like a tidal wave.

He would do it. He _could_ do it. For her.

If Emma wanted him to be a father, if Emma asked that of him, he would say yes. No matter how much the idea frightened him.

"Aye, Swan, a date," said Killian, confidence building with every syllable. "You remember dates, don't you? The two of us. Some dinner. Some wine. Some... _dessert_." He couldn't help himself with that last one. He threw in a smirk and a raised eyebrow for good measure.

She smiled, and it was that smile that was _just for him_.

For the first time in three weeks he felt truly light inside. Part 1 of his plan was a bust so far, but so what? He wasn't going to give up. He was going to keep trying.

Because of her. Because of Emma.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up where Chapter 1 left off.

Emma stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

Camelot. The meadow.

She had become pregnant while she was the Dark One. A child had taken root inside of her while her body played host to the greatest evil in all the realms. Emma was pretty sure that wasn't one of the things 9 out of 10 doctors recommended for healthy prenatal development.

Her insides clenched again and she collapsed next to the toilet, but her stomach had nothing left to give, so she merely dry-heaved for a few minutes. She flushed the toilet and returned to the sink, where she was faced once again with her anxious reflection. Her vision began to blur as tears filled her eyes.

She should have been more careful.

Honestly, did she even have a brain? How irresponsible could one person be? Camelot wasn't exactly known for its stellar birth control, but even so, she wasn't new to the whole sex thing. Her and Killian both knew how it worked. They had been cautious...

Except for that one time.

 _The meadow_.

They say one time is all it takes.

Suddenly, she heard the front door slam, and her name being called.

"Emma!"

Killian was home.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Emma realized she wasn't ready to tell him.

Well, that wasn't exactly right. The truth was closer to _he's not ready_.

She knew all about his hang-ups: he believed that, despite his recent redemption, there were still some things he would never deserve. Such as a family. And that was why Emma was there, to remind him that he had changed, to remind him that he was a _good man_.

She knew he was wrong about not being a fit role model for children. She saw how he was with Henry, and she had always assumed...she had always assumed one day Killian would be ready to start a family of his own, with her.

But not now. Now was definitely not the right time (Killian hadn't even figured out the coffee maker yet).

_But this baby's happening anyway, and it's not going to wait, or go away._

"Emma!" she heard Killian call her name again, a hint of panic in his voice.

"Here!" she called back, hurriedly brushing the tears from her cheeks.

She needed to get rid of the evidence. She raised a hand to banish the pregnancy tests (right to the bottom of the kitchen trash, underneath the 8-day-old Chinese takeout she tossed yesterday), but thought better of it -- with the way her powers had been acting up, she would probably transport the pregnancy tests directly to Killian's jacket pocket.

Instead, she stuffed them back into their packages, and then hid them in the cabinet underneath the sink, behind all the extra rolls of toilet paper. They would have to be disposed of later. She stepped back and examined the bathroom critically. Could you tell there were three pregnancy tests hidden somewhere inside this room?

She hoped not.

She put on her best "I'm fine; everything's okay" face and hoped it didn't look too fake. She opened the door and caught Killian with his hand raised to knock.

His expression went from surprise to concern. She knew she looked like a mess -- crying always made her face red and puffy. At least she was wearing some good, waterproof makeup.

_Thank god for small miracles._

"Everything alright, love?" Killian asked. He looked like a man desperate for good news.

"I'm fine," she answered.

_Oh my god, that's the best you could come up with? I'm fine?_

She could tell Killian wasn't buying it. He had been able to read her like an open book since the beginning, since they first met.

"Your father said you had a stomach bug," Killian persisted.

She gave him what she hoped was a casual shrug.

_Nope, nothing wrong here._

"False alarm, I guess. I just felt a little sick this morning, that's all. I'm better now," and she gave him a smile that was maybe a little _too_ sunny.

She saw him glance at her stomach, and folded her arms across her chest reflexively.

_Well, crap._

There was a split second where Emma was certain he was about to ask if she was pregnant, but then he said: "Let's go on a date." She could only stare. Killian looked just as surprised that he'd said that as she was.

"A what?"

"Aye, Swan, a date," he responded, the swagger back in his voice. "You remember dates, don't you? The two of us. Some dinner. Some wine. Some... _dessert_."

And there was the trademark smirk and raised eyebrow. She couldn't help it, she smiled. Emma could very well be carrying Dark Baby of the Year, and here he was _flirting_ with her, making her feel as if everything was normal. But that was Killian. He could make her feel safe and protected even in times of impending doom.

"A date sounds perfect."

And it really did. They hadn't been on a proper date since back when the Snow Queen was still a problem. Things just kept...getting in the way. It seemed they were always rushing from one crisis to the next.

_There is always a crisis. Perhaps you should consider living your life during them, otherwise, you might miss it._

Killian had said that.

He had also said: _All the more reason to enjoy the quiet moments. And right now, we have a quiet moment._

One week. She would wait one week, and then she would drop the baby bomb (she just hoped it wasn't a Dark Baby bomb).

 _Take advantage of this one week, because pretty soon, quiet moments are going to be pretty hard to come by. Pretty soon not alone is going to mean_ _Emma and Killian and a baby_.

Agreeing to a date seemed to have boosted Killian's spirits. He had either forgotten about his earlier suspicion (she knew he doubted the validity of her excuses; even Emma had to admit they weren't exactly expertly crafted), or he'd decided not to push the issue ( _because he trusts you_ , she thought guiltily). She let him lead her downstairs -- apparently there was a magic potion in the kitchen with restorative properties.

It turned out to be Gatorade. He presented it with a flourish.

Emma had to struggle not to laugh when she saw it.

"Seems you're doing pretty well adapting to the modern world, after all." She slipped her arms around his waist, and beamed up at him. She loved how perfectly their bodies fit against each other. She tried not to think about how there was a secret baby between them (literally and figuratively).

"Ah, well, actually, it was your father's idea," he admitted hesitantly.

"David? I thought you were at the docks today."

Killian suddenly looked bashful.

"Aye, I was. But then your father picked me up. He was, uh, teaching me how to drive."

Emma couldn't keep the pleasured surprise from her face. That just seemed to make Killian more embarrassed.

"How'd it go?"

"The docks or driving?"

"Both? No, the docks. Wait, yes, both -- but tell me about driving first."

"It didn't go very well," he confessed. His muscles tensed, as if he was about to pull away, but Emma tightened her grip. She wasn't going to let him squirm away from this one -- and not just because she wanted to know how Captain Hook's first driving lesson had gone.

Killian's list was mostly about proving to her that he could both manage this world and that he was in it to stay. Emma already knew those things, but he seemed intent on proving it to her anyway, as a point of honor. However, because he insisted on this course of action, Emma needed him to know that she supported him, that he wasn't alone, that she was at his side, and always would be.

He seemed to get the message. He relaxed in her arms and returned her hug.

"It seems driving requires more skill than I originally bargained for."

"You thought driving would be _easy_?" she asked, surprised.

"Well, to be fair, you and your father certainly make it _look_ easy. Besides, in this world, you let _children_ drive."

"We do not let _children_ drive." Emma protested.

"Henry drives."

"Henry drove once," Emma said pointedly. "And he was definitely not old enough at the time." Sometimes it was difficult for her to accept that Henry would be in high school next year -- she didn't even want to _think_ about how soon he would also be driving. "And don't let Henry hear you call him a child," she added teasingly.

"Speaking of Henry, when will the lad be coming over?"

Emma glanced at the clock. "Soon, actually."

Henry had been spending afternoons at their house. According to him, having an infant around was not conducive to doing homework. Sometimes he also stayed for dinner, and last weekend, after they'd finally gotten his bedroom fixed up, he'd spent the night.

Emma suspected he was feeling a little out of place with a new baby in the picture. He had very quickly gone from being the center of Regina's world to being one of three children under her care. She knew Henry was smart enough to understand that he wasn't any less special, and Regina didn't love him any less, it was just that infants (and small children) required a lot of attention.

In any case, she was grateful for the opportunity to spend time with him. She was also grateful that, after everything that happened in Camelot and after, he was comfortable enough to come to her and Killian for a little extra attention.

_But soon, there will be another new baby in the picture, and he'll have even more competition for motherly affection._

She hadn't thought about that. It had been less than an hour since she became sure she was pregnant, and the whole situation was already about 85% more complicated. Just for something to do, while these thoughts swirled around in her head, she opened the bottle of Gatorade and took a few sips, and received an unpleasant shock. Had it always tasted this gross, or was pregnancy screwing with her taste buds, too? Had things tasted differently when she was pregnant with Henry? Her whole mouth felt coated with the stuff.

"Is it that bad, love? Do you want me to get you a different flavor?" he was watching her anxiously. She hadn't realized she'd been making a sour face, partially due to the Gatorade, partially in response to her thoughts.

"No, this is fine. I just forgot how sugary it is." Which wasn't exactly a lie.

"Are you sure? I got the yellow one because it reminded me of your car, but there was another one called Riptide Rush that wasn't so absurdly colored, I could --"

He was precious, getting all flustered like this. She silenced him with a kiss. He deepened it instantly, parting her lips with his tongue and questing inside. He recoiled instantly, however.

"Ugh, that potion really is as foul as it looks," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Emma laughed, gave him a mischievous grin, and took another sip. She really did need the electrolytes.

Not to be deterred, Killian stalked back towards her.

"Is Henry staying for dinner?" he asked, tone sultry. Emma recognized the hungry look in his eyes -- and it definitely wasn't spaghetti and meatballs he was thinking about. He began kissing her neck, warm breath tickling her skin.

_Oh, god. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, god._

" _Yes_ ," she answered, with difficulty. "I mean, yes, Henry's staying for dinner. I think he's spending the night again, too."

"Then I guess our date -- and _this_ \-- will just have to wait." His lips vanished from her neck, and he was suddenly halfway across the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water from the tap, a smug grin plastered on his face.

 _Payback for the Gatorade kiss,_ she thought.

Emma looked at the clock again. It was too risky to try to work in a little extracurricular exercise before Henry arrived. He might be too freaked out to return if he walked in and saw her and Killian going at it on top of the kitchen table.

Thinking about Henry again made her feel guilty, so she decided to bake him brownies as an after-school snack.

_Guilt brownies. Great. I'm sure he won't suspect a thing._

_Come to think of it...It probably wouldn't hurt to butter up Killian a little, either._

She split the brownie mix evenly into two bowls, and ( _Here's to a Killian getting a job this week!_ ) poured a little rum into one of them.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Henry arrived after school and announced that he was staying the entire weekend. It seemed Emma and Killian's date would have to wait a few days. Emma didn't mind. Killian didn't seem bothered either. In fact, he crowed, it gave him even more time to plan the _perfect night_.

They spent Friday evening on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, watching movies and eating brownies -- Henry asked to try a rum brownie, but Killian flat out refused to share. Turned out, her pirate had a sweet tooth.

Henry suggested they watch Peter Pan (perhaps as revenge for Killian not giving him a rum brownie). Emma and Killian were game (hell, why not watch The Sword and The Stone afterwards; could be therapeutic, right?) That is, until Killian saw the DVD case. He took one look at the tiny cartoon of Captain Hook on the front and nearly chucked the movie out of the window.

"I don't know what's worse: the outfit, the moustache, or the...the _hair,"_ he growled _._

They eventually settled for Pirates of the Caribbean. Killian eyeballed the DVD case hard before finally agreeing. Emma was braced for comments about the absurdity or the inaccuracy of certain scenes, but, to her surprise, Killian was completely engrossed. He enjoyed it so much he insisted they watch the sequel immediately after.

"I like this Captain Jack fellow," he said appreciatively, eyes on the screen.

"Yea," Henry agreed. "If you two have a kid, you could name him Jack. You know, because of the whole pirate thing."

Emma froze. Killian nearly dropped the rum brownie he was holding. He was side-eyeing Henry with an expression of shock on his face. Emma hoped it was because of the phrase "pirate thing" (as if being a pirate was a phase one went through rather than an entire lifestyle), and not because of the mention of a future child between them.

To her great relief, Killian said nothing and returned his attention to the movie, although he did glance her way a few times.

Emma ignored the looks Killian was giving her, and pretended to be watching the movie. Part of her toyed with the idea of Jack as a baby name.

_Jack. Jack. Did you do your homework, Jack? Don't play with daddy's cutlass, Jack. Your teacher said you were kissing girls in class again, Jack._

Why was she imaging her kid as a little rogue?

Probably because the baby's father was a -- what was the phrase? -- _dashing rapscallion_.

_Jack. Jack Jones. Erg, Jack Jones. No. Nevermind. Sorry, Henry._

They woke up Saturday morning to find it had snowed sometime during the night. The three of them walked to Granny's, admiring how magical everything looked. There was something about the first few hours after a snowfall that Emma really liked. It was peaceful. Everyone was still inside, sleeping or just not yet ready to face the weather. The snow was fresh and undisturbed, coating everything like a layer of frosting.

 _Frosting_ , she thought hungrily. _That reminds me of cupcakes. A cupcake would be nice right now._

Granny's didn't have cupcakes, however, so they settled for hot cocoa and donuts. Henry went in to place the order while Emma and Killian remained outside.

"You're cold, Swan," Killian said, eyeing her bright pink cheeks. "Why don't we go inside?"

"I'm fine," she replied, " _Really_."

The morning was too beautiful to waste inside Granny's. She stared around, trying to see everything at once, trying to drink it all in while it was all still so lovely and _quiet._

Killian seemed to understand. He slipped an arm around her waist and let her snuggle against him while they waited (okay, maybe she was a _little bit_ cold).

Emma looked up at Killian. His eyes were bright, and looked bluer than normal. Emma loved his eyes. She hoped their kid would have his eyes. The thought of _their kid_ filled her with a sudden warm rush of excitement, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He turned his head at the last minute and she caught his lips instead. They were surprisingly warm. She melted against him.

One of his arms pressed against her back, while the other -- the one with a flesh-and-blood hand attached -- drifted lower, along her rear. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip and followed up with her teeth. He responded by pulling her closer. She could feel his heart beating rapidly, in time with her own. And then she felt a gentle (but insistent) nudge from somewhere below his belt.

His arousal just excited her more. It had been a great delight to discover that Captain Hook was really quite sensitive. How, might you ask, had he kept his _feelings_  hidden all that time before they started dating?

_A really big coat._

For a second, Emma thought -- _ok, yea, this is it, we're really doing this, we're going to have sex on Granny's patio, in broad daylight_ \-- and then the little bell over the door tinkled, and Henry was running down the steps, exclaiming about double-chocolate donuts.

Emma and Killian sprang apart like guilty teenagers. Henry didn't even bat an eyelash. His policy when catching them in a moment was apparently to just pretend like nothing was happening. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Killian very discreetly adjusting the front of his jeans.

They walked back home, Emma struggling to get her breathing under control, and Killian limping like he had a hamstring injury. Henry, seemingly oblivious to their predicament, chattered away about Elsa and how it really would be awesome to have snow powers (because then he could make every day a snow day and never have to go to school).

"Speaking of school, kid, do you have any homework this weekend?"

"Uh..." now it was Henry's turn to look guilty.

Emma fixed Henry with her best mom stare. Killian chuckled.

"What? I forgot!" Henry exclaimed.

"You're doing it _today,_ got it? _"_

Henry nodded. He looked sufficiently chastised, so she laid off.

They ate their breakfast at the round table in the front room, where they had a perfect view of the snow-covered landscape. In the distance, they could just make out the sea, iron gray, like the clouds overhead.

It was cozy, sitting together in comfortable silence, sipping their hot cocoa and admiring the scenery. She caught Killian's eye and they shared a smile. The house was slowly starting to feel more and more like _home_.

It was very reluctantly that, an hour later, she dragged herself out of her chair and announced that she had to go into the station.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright, love?" Killian asked.

Emma had almost forgotten she left work with a "stomach bug" yesterday.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "You and Henry can have a few hours to yourselves to do whatever it is that boys do when they're alone together."

Killian flashed her a grin that made her regret her suggestion.

"I'll be home before dinner," she said, planting a kiss on the top of Henry's head. "And _behave_."

"We will," Henry and Killian said together, with matching smirks.

_Oh, brother._

_Just wait until there's a third one in the mix._

When she got to the station, she was greeted by the sight of Will Scarlet. He was lounging on the narrow cot in his usual cell.

"Morning!" he waved at her cheerily.

She looked at David in exasperation, but he just gave her an "I don't know what to do with him" shrug.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Emma saw her chance, and she took it. "Still not well, actually," she said. "I was just going to pick up the last little bit of paperwork I have to do, and take it home with me."

David helped her pack everything she needed in a box.

"You, Henry, and Hook should join Mary Margaret and I for dinner at Granny's tomorrow night," he said, as she was about to leave.

"Can I come?" Will interjected loudly.

Emma just barely restrained herself from hurling a stapler at his head. She settled for turning on her heel and stalking out of the station, with a hurried, "We'll be there," to David over her shoulder.

When Emma returned home, Killian was helping Henry with his homework at the kitchen table. Emma leaned over Henry's shoulder to spy on what they were working on.

_Math._

Math wasn't really her thing. School, in general, had been difficult for her. Too many different schools, too many new faces. Always the new girl, never fitting in.

It turned out, though, that math was a little bit Killian's thing.

"Of course I can do algebra. I _had_ a formal education," he said defensively, when met with both Emma and Henry's surprise. When they continued to stare, he sighed and explained, "Before I was a pirate, I was an officer in the Royal Navy. They don't let you join the Royal Navy if you can't read, write, and do basic math."

Emma sat at the table with them, doing the paperwork from the station, and watching them discreetly out of the corner of her eye. Killian had claimed he was "no fit role model for children", but there he was, pouring over Henry's homework with him, patiently walking him through the equations, _like a good parent_.

Henry looked up to Killian. He asked Killian questions constantly -- about his adventures, about the Enchanted Forest and other places he'd visited, about ships and sailing...Emma suspected Henry also asked Killian questions about girls, but assumed he saved those questions for when Emma wasn't around.

And Killian _always_ answered Henry's questions, always made time for him, was always trying to make him smile or laugh.

Emma wished -- wished so hard that it became an actual, physical ache -- that Killian could see what she saw. He was _already_ a good role model, and tried _so hard_ to be one for Henry, not just for Emma's sake, but because he genuinely cared for Henry.

Emma was so frustrated that she very nearly told him she was pregnant, just so she could then explain to him that it was fine _because he was going to be a great father_.

But she held back.

 _It's not the right time_.

Killian didn't need anything else to worry about. He had a lot on his plate already. His list, the whole "adapt to the modern world" thing...

There was also the fact that their baby might have been permanently affected by the Darkness...

These thoughts distracted her through the rest of the evening.

That night, she lay awake in bed long after Killian had gone to sleep, listening to his heartbeat. It beat in sync with her own. She imagined a third heartbeat, in her stomach, where a baby the size of a grape was growing. Was that heart pure, or was there already a dark stain on it? The thought made her queasy.

She had (quite willingly) let the comfort of the weekend lull her into a false sense of security, but now the fear wormed its way back inside. Now she understood how her parents must have felt when they were told that their baby might be born with the potential for great darkness.

That was it: _her parents_. How had her parents dealt with the news?

_They went out and found a unicorn._

Emma had an idea.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a tough week for me, so it took longer than usual to write this.

Every time Emma opened her mouth to speak, Killian expected her to tell him she was pregnant.

But the words never came.

He _knew_ she was pregnant -- he'd never been pregnant himself, but he _was_ aware of the signs. Being tired all the time and throwing up were telltale symptoms. Add in getting emotional over pictures of people who were still alive and... _winner, winner, chicken dinner_ (another phrase from Emma -- apparently, in this world, the ability to apply lines from songs and movies to your everyday life was a necessary survival skill).

Emma had decided not to tell him yet, however, and he would respect her decision. 

Because part of loving Emma Swan was understanding that sometimes she needed her space. Emma had grown up alone, and learned the hard way not to trust people -- because when you trusted someone you _let them in_ , and if you let them in they could hurt you. Killian had always let her set the pace, and he always would. Patience had earned him Emma's love in the first place, and patience would be how he re-earned her trust now. She would tell him eventually, when she was ready, and until then he was content to play dumb.

While he waited, he amused himself by making a game out of the whole situation: he took a mental tally of all the moments in which Emma had a perfect opportunity to tell him the news, but held back.

If he reached 25 tallies he would paint the Jolly Roger pink.

He started on Friday. He thought the game was over as soon as Henry mentioned the possibility of Jack as a baby name, but Emma remained resolutely silent on the subject, so Killian mentally added a tally (3, at that point) and returned his attention to the movie.

His thoughts kept drifting back to what Henry had said, however.

_Jack. Jack Jones._

He glanced at Emma, wondering if her thoughts followed a similar path. Did she like the name? Did she have others in mind? Would the baby be named Jones, after him, or would it keep Emma's surname? They weren't exactly married, after all...

_Jack Swan. Jack Jones. Jack._

Jack wouldn't work very well for a girl, though. Unless...what was the feminine form of the name? _Jacqueline_. Jackie, for short. He filed that away for later.

By Sunday evening he was up to 8 tallies.

Emma was in the kitchen, baking again. It was Henry's last night with them, and he knew she wanted to make something special.

"And what are we concocting now, Swan?" he asked, slipping his arms around her waist from behind, and resting his chin on her shoulder. He peered into the bowl she was mixing. They were meeting David and Mary Margaret at Granny's later for dinner, and apparently having something very green and very gooey for dessert. Despite its unusual color, it smelled amazing.

"Cupcakes," she answered simply.

"No rum this time?" he said, disappointed. The rum brownies she had made on Friday had been preposterously delicious. He had never been particularly taken with pastries, until he'd discovered the things this world could do with chocolate. Avoiding sweets here was almost as difficult a struggle as resisting the Darkness. If Emma kept baking with rum, however, he wouldn't be able to help himself, and he would soon grow to be as big as Little John.

"Sorry, buddy, no rum on a school night. That's my policy," she grinned at him over her shoulder.

" _I_ don't have school tomorrow," he said, pressing against her; the curve of her rear fit perfectly against his hips. "I can stay up _all night_..."

Emma had her hair tied back in a ponytail. leaving her neck and shoulders exposed. He brushed his lips lightly along her neck, and she shivered. He continued teasing her, alternating between lips, teeth, and tongue until she put down her spoon and turned in his arms so they were face-to-face.

Her cheeks were already flushed.

_Now, that's more like it._

Killian had been chomping at the bit ever since that _encounter_ outside Granny's the day before. The weekend had been an absolute sexual drought. As much as Killian enjoyed having Henry stay the weekend with them, there were certain things you just couldn't do with the lad in the house, such as have sex on your kitchen table ( _or Granny's patio, I suppose_ ).

Killian had just captured Emma's mouth in a kiss when, right on cue, Henry appeared in the kitchen.

"When are we leaving for dinner?"

Killian separated himself from Emma, struggling not to curse. He needed to invest in another big coat; these tight jeans hid _nothing_.

"As soon as these cupcakes are done," Emma replied, taking up her spoon again. Killian was envious of her ability to recover so quickly.

Henry walked over and looked thoughtfully into the bowl of cupcake batter, and asked, "How come you're baking so much all of a sudden? You never used to bake before..."

Killian waited, wondering how she would answer. He assumed she would tell him in private before revealing the news to anyone else, even Henry, but he'd been wrong before...

"I guess I just like baking now," she shrugged.

Killian had to admit he was relieved. He wanted to be the first one she told.

"Well, I'm happy." Henry stated. Emma smiled at him, and it was her "How did I get so lucky to have such a good kid?" smile.

"Can I have some of the batter?"

"Only if you want some salmonella, too."

"If I get salmonella," said Henry reasonably, "I won't have to go to school tomorrow."

Killian had to admire the lad's audacity. It was a character trait he'd inherited from both parents. Killian wondered what his child would inherit from him.

_Charm, a saucy wit, mischievousness..._

Killian took a spoon from the drawer, scooped some batter from the bowl and transferred it to his mouth. "Funny, this doesn't taste anything like salmon..." he said, around the spoon. It really was quite delicious, even without rum.

Emma rounded on him. "Are you serious right now?"

He paused his spoon licking, surprised; he hadn't expected her to look so angry. She tugged the spoon away from him, and started explaining all about raw eggs and bacteria.

While she rebuked him, Henry was busy snagging his own spoonful of cupcake batter behind her back. Killian watched him out of the corner of his eye. When Henry had his prize safely out of sight, Killian halted Emma.

"Alright, love, I understand," he tried to sound apologetic. "If I eat this green batter, little fish are going to grow in my stomach and swim out my rear end."

Henry made his escape then, informing them, as he fled, that he wished to be called back when the cupcakes were ready to be decorated. Emma narrowed her eyes at Henry's retreating back.

"He took some batter, didn't he?"

 "I've no idea what you're talking about, Swan," Killian answered, as innocently as he could manage.

Emma rolled her eyes.

Killian helped Emma drop spoonfuls of the batter into the cupcake tray. He kept throwing her meaningful looks: _See? Not a single drop of this batter shall pass my lips. I'm a good boy,_ until she smiled _his_ smile (the smile that said, "No one makes me laugh like you do" or, alternatively, "If anybody else did what you just did, I would punch them").

They finished the first tray (which would go to Granny's with them that night) and moved onto the second (which was purely for at-home consumption).

 _One for Henry_. Killian put a large dollop of green batter into one of the cups.

 _One for me_. Another large dollop in another cup.

 _One for Emma_. Two extra-large dollops in one cup. Because Emma was eating for two now, and _obviously_ the baby would have a sweet tooth, just like its father.

Killian glanced at Emma. She was silent, absorbed in her own thoughts.

"What are you thinking, love?" he asked, continuing to casually spoon batter into the tray, like it wasn't a big deal, like he wasn't hoping that she'd tell him he was about to be a father.

"I was thinking about how nice this weekend has been, just the three of us," and she smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"Aye," he agreed. He had greatly enjoyed the domesticity of it all -- Emma, Henry, and himself, not really doing anything special, just being _together_. The best part was Emma -- how _happy_ she looked. He felt content to a degree he'd never experienced before in his life  -- not even with Milah, and not even when, once (for the briefest of moments), he had believed that he and young Baelfire could be a family.

_Family._

On Friday, when he realized _Emma is pregnant_ , he'd been terrified (because how could _he_ be a _father_?). But the idea had grown on him over the past two days, and that was partly because of Henry.

Killian didn't expect to replace Neal -- no one would ever replace Neal in the boy's heart -- but he took great satisfaction in simply _being there_ for the boy the way a father would, whether it was being there to help him with his math homework, or to teach him how to sail or use a sword, or to offer him advice about girls (which he was careful not to do when Emma was around). Killian didn't do it just to honor his friend, nor did he do it just for Emma; he did it for Henry, because he cared for the boy.

He didn't want Emma to think he didn't want to be a father.  

"Is that all you were thinking?" He shouldn't be pushing her but he was. He just wanted her to tell him. He wanted to be able to tell her that she didn't have to worry; he wasn't scared, he wasn't going to run away from this.

"I was also wondering whether to use red frosting, or more green."

And it hurt a little, that she wasn't telling him, but it was okay. She wasn't ready yet, but she would be, soon. Killian knew she would.

He wasn't going to push her again. He just added another tally ( _nine_ ) and asked, "And what have you decided?"

"I decided," Emma said, "to let Henry decide."

Henry chose the green frosting ("Because the huge one reminds me of the Hulk," he explained, pointing to the extra-large cupcake Killian had created) and was allowed to carry the finished products to Granny's and show them off (Killian made sure the special "Hulk" cupcake was left at home, for Emma). David and Mary Margaret oooh'ed and ahhhhh'ed over the confections before Granny tucked them away, to keep cool until later.

The diner was at its usual Sunday-night crowdedness. It seemed that Sunday night was a popular night to eat out and enjoy the last little bit of weekend before everyone returned to school and work the next day.

They squeezed in at the only table large enough to fit them all -- the round one in the corner by the front window. Mary Margaret asked how their weekend was, and Henry launched into a very animated analysis of just how _awesome_ it had been.

Emma was beaming. Killian couldn't take his eyes off her; she was positively glowing. It was the perfect end to a perfect weekend.

 And then Mary Margaret asked, "How is your job search going, Killian?"

It was an innocent question, but the little bubble of happiness that Killian had been carrying around inside him all weekend instantly deflated. It was as if time had stood still the past two days, and now reality came crashing back, hitting him full force like a tidal wave.

Emma must have seen the change in his expression, because she answered for him.

"Um, not so well," she said awkwardly, clearly trying to help but not sure what to say.

_I was supposed to have found a job already, I was supposed to be showing Emma that she could rely on me..._

Something clicked in Killian's brain.

_She hasn't told me she's pregnant because she's afraid it'll burden me more._

He felt foolish. His list, which was supposed to be the recipe for rebuilding his future with Emma, had actually become a roadblock to said future. He'd been so insistent on _doing this_ and _proving that_ that he'd made _more_ of a mess of things.

He'd forgotten the most important thing: Emma (and now their child) came first, always.   

He made a decision.

He cleared his throat, about to announce he was going to work at the docks (initial impressions be damned, he _would_ work there and he _would_ enjoy it), but Henry spoke first, and his words made Killian feel, if possible, even more stupid.

"Have you thought about opening a bar?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing what a little coffee can do. Either I'm hitting my stride, or I'm so hopped up on caffeine that I forgot to agonize over this chapter for three days.

Emma stared at Henry.

A bar. Why hadn't they thought of that before? It made sense. It made a lot of sense, actually. Where had Captain Hook spent most of his time, aside from the deck of the Jolly Roger? In taverns.

Well, in taverns and brothels, but Killian couldn't exactly open a brothel (Emma was pretty sure there was something in the Storybrooke town charter disallowing it).

Killian was still dumbstruck, mouth hanging open in a fairly good impression of a wide-mouth bass.

"Yea," Henry continued, gesturing over his shoulder, "The Snow Queen's old ice cream shop is still empty, you could do it there."

"He's right!" Mary Margaret chimed in, excitedly. "The only bar here is The Rabbit Hole, and well..." she glanced at Henry, "It attracts a certain, uh, _type_."

The Rabbit Hole was somewhere between a lounge and a nightclub. It wasn't Emma's sort of bar. There were too many people trying too hard. She supposed in a more urban setting, The Rabbit Hole would have been fine, but in quaint Storybrooke, the place just stank of desperation and cheap cologne.

Emma remembered Belle when Belle had been Lacey. _Lacey's The Rabbit Hole type._

"You mean the type of person looking for a one-night stand?" Henry asked. They all whipped their heads around to stare at him. He mumbled something that sounded like, "I've _seen_ movies",  and disappeared behind his menu, cheeks slightly pink.

_Maybe he's not as naive as we thought..._

"Well, uh, I was thinking Storybrooke could use something a little more, um, family friendly," Mary Margaret said, alternating between throwing a bright, encouraging smile at Killian, and confused, suspicious glances at Henry.

"Family friendly?" David asked doubtfully. "A bar?"

"Well, no," said Mary Margaret, flustered, "I just meant something a little more, um, laid back."

 _Yea, laid back. Relaxed. Cozy._ Emma could picture it perfectly.  Wood, dark with age, well-used but well-kept. Warm lighting. Plenty of high-top tables and stools. A jukebox. Killian behind the bar, towel slung over one shoulder, pouring a beer from the tap.

_It'll need a good beer selection. Or, you know, rum selection._

"Like a dive bar," Emma said. "Without the disreputable part. You know, somewhere people can go to just hang out --"

"Not hook up," Henry chipped in again. Emma's glare sent him scurrying back behind his menu.

"A pub," Killian seemed to have found his words again, just in time to save Henry from Emma. He cleared his throat. "I think what you're trying to describe is called a pub."

"Yes! Exactly!" Mary Margaret cried triumphantly.

"What about Granny?" Emma asked, trying not to think about Henry's knowledge of adult dating terms and _where_ he might have learned such things ( _Killian_ ), "If we open a bar right next door, wouldn't she be upset that we're stealing her business?"

"Unless Granny was the one collecting your rent," said the woman in question, come to take their orders.

"Really?" Killian twisted around in his chair to fix her with an incredulous stare.

"Don't look so surprised," she said briskly, "I'm a business woman."

"And you would be willing to part with this property?" Emma heard a bit of the pirate captain in Killian's voice.

_Negotiating terms._

"Didn't you hear me? I said I'm a _business woman_. I'm not going to just hand it over for free."

_There was the good old Granny bluntness._

"Oh," said Killian. "Well, what will it cost me, then? Not an arm and a leg, I hope. I've already only got one hand..."

Henry snorted. Killian threw him an appreciative grin. Emma suspected the joke was purely for Henry's sake. He was _always_ trying to get a laugh out of the kid.

_Which is lucky, because his pirate jokes fall flat with basically everyone else._

Well, that wasn't exactly true. His jokes made Emma smile. Sometimes they were corny, or exasperating, but again, it was part of his charm. _Always trying to make the people he loves smile, even when they're down. Especially when they're down._

Granny put her hands on her hips. "Besides rent once a month? You have to promise me Leroy and the others will be out of my diner and in your bar by 8 o'clock every night."

Killian just blinked at her.

"I'm old," Granny elaborated, "I like to go to bed early. I can't do that when I've got the Seven Drunken Dwarves drinking me dry every night."

"Ah. Ahhhhh. Right."

"Come by tomorrow and I'll give you the keys. Now," she said, "What's everyone having?"

Over dinner, they further hashed out the details. Killian was flushed with excitement. There were some hoops they'd have to jump through: zoning, a liquor license, insurance, and then the whole inside would have to be renovated, furniture purchased, inventory acquired...but, all things considered, that was the _easy part_.

It seemed as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off Killian's shoulders. He was grinning from ear to ear, like a schoolboy. He kept throwing Emma scorching glances. She knew _exactly_ what was going down as soon as they reached their bedroom, and honestly, dinner couldn't be over fast enough.

After dinner, and after everyone had consumed their fill of cupcakes, David tried coercing Killian into holding baby Neal. Killian protested at first ("The _hook_ , mate"), but then Mary Margaret joined in, and Killian realized arguing was useless. He sat stock-still while Neal was maneuvered into his arms. Once the baby was safely nestled in the crook of his arm, David and Mary Margaret stepped back and beamed at him.

His eyes flickered to Emma immediately. Emma held his gaze steadily.

Suddenly, Neal started fussing, and Killian's eyes were drawn down to the armful of squirming infant he held. He started bouncing Neal and making gentle shushing noises. To everyone's surprise, Neal quieted almost instantly.

"Killian, you're a natural!" Mary Margaret gushed, throwing Emma a significant glance.

Emma rolled her eyes. _That went from zero to have Hook's baby a little too quick._

Killian's face was red, and not just from the beers he'd had. David also looked uncomfortable. He took Neal from Killian and tucked him back in his carrier.

_Telling David is probably going to be more difficult than telling Killian...maybe I'll tell Mary Margaret first, and she can tell David. Later, when I'm not in the room. Or building. Or state._

They said their goodbyes and strolled home through the chilly night, Emma and Killian arm-in-arm, and Henry a few paces ahead of them, chattering away about the bar again.

"It could be _pirate themed_ , how cool would that be?"

Emma rested her head against Killian's shoulder and received a kiss on her forehead. She smiled. She felt content. This was what she had been waiting for, the feeling that it was the _right time_.

She thought back to the diner, when Killian was holding the baby. She wished she could have told him right then that she was pregnant...but her parents were there. And Henry. She wanted to tell Killian first, alone. He deserved that. He deserved a moment of private joy (and she was _certain_ now that joy would be his reaction, whatever his reservations about fatherhood).

Snowflakes began to drift lazily down from the sky as they walked. They were due to get snow again, more than last time. Forecasters said they were in for a very snowy winter this year. That was fine with Emma; snow was just an excuse to stay inside and drink hot chocolate under a blanket with Killian.

Henry went to bed as soon as they got home. He took one last cupcake and a glass of milk up to his room with him. Killian and Emma waited a few minutes, and then went up to their own bedroom. As soon as Emma closed their door, Killian had her pinned against it.

"Wait," she stopped him with a hand on his chest. She'd made her decision. She was going to tell him. "I --"

"Not now, Swan." he growled, and cut her off with a kiss. It was a bruising, passionate kiss, and Emma immediately forgot her desire to tell him anything other than _more_. She buried her fingers in his hair, gripping hard. He turned her around and started walking her backwards, towards the bed, leaving a trail of her clothes on the floor as they went.

She felt the back of her knees hit the bed and sat down. He stripped off his shirt expertly with one hand, and began unbuckling his belt, but Emma was impatient. She pushed his hands away, and did it for him. He watched her silently, eyes half-closed, one hand loosely wrapped around her wrist, thumb rubbing gently back and forth over her buttercup tattoo.

She unzipped his jeans and slid them and his boxer briefs (if you're going to wear tight jeans you also needed to wear some pretty damned tight underwear) down to his ankles. His erection bobbed up to meet her. She planted a kiss on its tip, and Killian shivered. Her lips came away slightly sticky. She made a show of slowly licking them clean. His hand tightened convulsively on her wrist.

" _Emma_."

She took his entire length into her mouth, and he let out a strangled groan. She pulled back.

"We need to be quiet."

"Aye, Swan. I can be quiet," he said in a strained voice.

" _Can you, though?_ "

Emma remembered the last few times. She remembered thinking the headboard would fall off from being repeatedly slammed against the wall, or, at the very least, the neighbors would call the cops (and that would be truly awkward because "cops" around here just meant David).

"I'll be as quiet as you want, just please don't stop _that_."

Afterwards, while they lay entwined under the covers, Emma realized they had forgotten to use a condom. Then she realized they were _way_ past that.

Killian was already asleep. She lightly traced one of the scars on his chest with a finger. His hand snapped up to catch hers. "Tickles..." he breathed. His eyes weren't open, but he was smiling.

The next morning, Regina came to pick Henry up for school. Regina was running a little late (the roads were a mess from the night's snow), so she waited in the car. Emma handed Henry the lunch she had packed for him, and kissed him on the forehead.

"I have to pull some double-shifts this week, so you won't be able to come over for dinner for a few days."

"I had a really good time this weekend," Henry said.

"Me too, kid."

"I'll visit you at the station."

"Ok," she smiled, and followed him out onto the porch.

Regina waved to Emma as Henry got in the car. Emma waved back. She could see the dark circles under Regina's eyes from the porch.

 _Baby's keeping her up_.

She went back inside and closed the door.

_I'd better not laugh, that'll be me in less than 7 months._

She put her hand on her stomach. No bump yet, but soon.

She decided to let Killian sleep, and got ready for work without waking him. She set the coffee maker up for him so all he would have to do was press the "on" button.

When she got to the station a half hour later ( _where the hell are the snow plows?_ ), there was a text waiting for her.

It was from Killian: _Clear your schedule for Wednesday night, Swan, because we're going on our date._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of like a "things I needed to get out of the way before date night" chapter. And finally, I can say with 100% accuracy that next chapter will have the arrival of "the blonde kid with Killian's eyes".
> 
> Also, I didn't want to keep calling Regina and Robin's baby "the baby", so I named her Rowan (in keeping with the whole R-name thing they have going on...also because Zelena would be so pissed they named her daughter after a tree).

Emma read Killian's text and smiled to herself. She hit the dial button and put the phone to her ear.

"Really?" she asked, when he picked up, " _Wednesday_ is your perfect date night?"

"Good morning to you too, love." She could hear the sleepiness in his voice, and the gurgle of the coffee maker in the background. She imagined him in the kitchen, shirtless, as was his habit, probably with his hair sticking up in every direction, shuffling around looking for his favorite cereal.

"The _when_ matters not, Swan. What matters is the _who --_ that's us, by the way _\--_ and the _where_. The where is a surprise."

She wished she was there at home with him, instead of a mile away.

"I love you," she said, closing her eyes and pretending she was in his arms, breathing in the scent of his skin -- his skin was always warm, which you might not expect from a recently dead guy.

"I love you, too," she heard the smile in his voice, and could picture it perfectly in her mind.

"The Lucky Charms are above the fridge."

He laughed, and thanked her.

That night he waylaid her as soon as she got into the house. He slid one arm around her waist, pulled a pair of keys out of thin air, and jingled them at her merrily.

"It's ours?" she asked excitedly.

"I love that you're saying 'ours', love," he said quietly. There was a softness to his expression, to his smile. It was the look of quiet wonder he sometimes had, like he couldn't quite believe this was his real life, like he was afraid it was a dream he was about to wake from, and he was savoring every second.

She took Killian's hand between both of hers, so that the keys were in between their palms.

"Of course," she said. "No more doing things alone, remember? We're in this _together_ , Killian. "

He ducked his head and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss. Emma held his hand pressed between their bodies, squeezing tight.  

"Food's going to get cold," he said,finally pulling away with a grin, and led her to the kitchen, where there was a steaming mug of hot chocolate waiting for her, and breakfast for dinner.

"It's the only thing I really know how to cook," he admitted awkwardly.

"It's perfect," she said, taking a seat at the table. He began heaping her plate with a small mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon _and_ sausage, hashbrowns, and two whole pieces of buttered toast.

"Whoa, that's a lot of food," she said, looking between her plate and Killian's. Her plate was definitely twice as full as his. Had he made a mistake? 

"Well..." he trailed off, taking the chair across from her.

"Well, what?"

"Well," he said, scratching behind one of his ears, "I just thought you might be hungry, after spending all day eating snacks out of a vending machine."

He had her eating habits pinned down, for sure, but he was lying.

_Does he know? He can't know. Can he?_

She fixed him with a suspicious glare, which he smoothly ignored. Instead he said, "Tell me all about your day, love," and crammed an entire piece of toast in his mouth.

She tucked her suspicion away, to examine later.

Tuesday morning Emma visited Regina, and got a squalling baby thrust into her arms as soon as the front door opened.

"Hold that," Regina said hurriedly, and she disappeared back into the house, leaving the front door wide open behind her. Emma assumed she was meant to follow, so she did.

Emma hung back in the foyer, trying that bouncing-and-shushing combination on Rowan that she'd seen Killian use with Neal the other night.

_If Killian can do it, I can do it._

Rowan quieted a little, but maintained a steady whimper that threatened to turn into a full out wail again any second.

Babies weren't really her thing. Holding them made her slightly nervous, as if they were fragile. She'd held baby Neal a countless number of times, but she _still_ got that tickle of anxiety every time he was in her arms.

Regina returned, looking slightly less harassed.

"Sorry about that," she said, taking Rowan back and then walking up the hallway towards the kitchen, heels clicking on the polished floor.

Emma trailed behind, looking around. Even with an infant and a toddler living there, Regina's house was just so _clean_. She suspected that wouldn't be her case, when the baby was born. She rested one hand involuntarily on her stomach.

"If you're here about the bar, I've already told Killian it's fine," Regina said, when Emma reached the kitchen.

"Oh," Emma said, startled out of her thoughts.

"I trust you," Regina continued. "I don't exactly trust your _pirate boyfriend_ , but I trust _you_. If you think this bar is a good idea for the two of you -- you _are_ going to help him with it, correct? -- and if you think it's a good idea for Storybrooke, then go ahead. Whatever you need you can have."

"Thanks, Regina," she said, and then was silent for a time as she watched Regina get a bottle ready for the baby. Regina certainly knew what she was doing. She expertly juggled Rowan in one hand while she manipulated an array of objects with the other: a bottle, the formula, a pan of hot water, her cell phone to call Robin and tell him they were out of juice boxes for Roland and could he please pick up some more before he came home?

Emma's stomach fell. She may be Henry's mother _now_ , but she'd never had to deal with an infant before. Was she ready? She barely stopped her hand from going to her stomach again.

"Is there something else?" Regina asked, after a while.

"Uh, actually," she started awkwardly, "Are there any, um...unicorns...in Storybrooke?"

And then she held her breath. _Just a casual question, just asking a casual question._

To her relief, Regina didn't look critical, merely thoughtful.

"Unicorns are magical creatures. I wasn't able to bring any to Storybrooke with the first curse. And, as far as I know, no unicorns were swept up in any of the _other curses_."

"Oh," she said, trying to hide her dismay.

"However," Regina said, and Emma perked up immediately, "If you were looking for unicorn tears, perhaps, or a horn, you could probably find them in Gold's shop. I might even have some unicorn hair in my vault, as well. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, no reason." Emma said.

 _Unicorn tears?_ She couldn't imagine what someone might want unicorn tears for. But the horn...she wanted to ask if the horn would still possess its magical powers if not attached to an actual unicorn, but didn't want to risk arousing Regina's suspicion. She would just have to try it out and see.

_It's my only chance to find out if the Darkness affected this baby or not._

She hoped not. She wasn't sure what she would do if it had...she certainly couldn't do what her parents had done.

"Oh," she said, suddenly remembering something. "Do you know any good carpenters? Not Marco. I mean someone who could renovate the Snow Queen's old shop."

"Carpenters? For God's sake, Ms. Swan, you have magic!"

"Right," she said, and scurried out before she could ask how the hell she was supposed to renovate an entire bar with magic if her powers were malfunctioning because she pregnant.

She and David spent the rest of the morning sorting out some sort of jurisdictional dispute between the two snow plow owners in town. She didn't even know why they _had_ two snow plows (they could easily have made do with one), she just knew they were due to get another foot of snow dumped on them, and they needed _someone_ to plow it.

After the plow drivers left (disgruntled, but both finally willing to accept that the other one wasn't just going to up and quit and leave them the undisputed Snow Plow King), David took the squad car out to investigate reports of a burglary. When he returned, he found her at her desk eating a cupcake -- the giant one Killian said he had made special for her.

"Will Scarlet?" Emma asked.

"No, turns out some old lady just misplaced her tea kettle. Is that all you're having for lunch?"

"Uh-huh," said Emma thickly through a mouth full of frosting. "Want some?"

"I had my fill of cupcakes on Sunday," he said, holding up a hand. "Besides, I'm watching my girlish figure."

"You sure? You might want to, you know, stockpile now, just in case we all get trapped inside without food for the next few days."

David was suddenly very, very serious. "I will personally _kill_ those two if they aren't both out there plowing the streets tomorrow."

Wednesday morning she was lying in bed, Killian radiating warmth like a portable heater beside her, not yet ready to start getting dressed for work, when her cell phone rang.

"Hello?" Emma answered.

"Hey, it's me," said David. "Are you awake?"

"Yea. Yea, I'm awake. What's up?"

"I just got a call at the station saying that you-know-who is passed out on a bench by the docks."

Emma groaned. "I'm assuming you don't mean Lord Voldemort?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. Want me to get him?"

"Could you? I've got the plow guys here again..."

" _Again_?" Emma snorted. This place...sometimes it was just so typically small-town America that she forgot it was inhabited by characters from a fairy tale. She slid out of bed and went to the window. She parted the curtains to find fresh snow covering the roof and everything else within sight. It looked to be less than the forecasters promised -- only about six inches or so, but still.

The road hadn't been plowed yet. She sighed.

"I've got it covered. I'll see you at the station."

"Drive carefully."

"Do you want me to join you, love?" Killian was awake. He stretched, and the covers slipped off, revealing quite an expanse of naked skin. Emma sighed. She had really been hoping to spend an extra hour or so in bed, with _that_.

"Nope, don't move." Emma said, and went back to bed.

She was _not_ going to let Will Scarlet ruin her day.

Two hours later, she finally made it to the station to swap her yellow bug for a squad car, and then she went to hunt down Will Scarlet, Ruiner of Perfect Mornings. It took her a few minutes to find the bench Will was asleep on. He must have been there all night, because he was buried under a few inches of snow.

_How drunk do you have to be to let that happen?_

She stalked over to where he lay, plunged her hands into the snow pile, and dragged him out by his jacket lapels. Several empty bottles came with him and thumped to the ground. She ignored his spluttering and shouts of "Bloody hell!" and wrestled him into the back seat of the squad car.

She sped back to the station, sirens blaring ("All this for little ol' me?"), and once more led him by his jacket, this time to a cell.

"That took you a while..." David commented, emerging from his office.

"Yea, well," she said, thinking quickly, "He was buried under a foot of snow. It took me a while to find him."

"You lot may as well put my name on this cell," Will huffed, dramatically, slumping onto his cot.

" _Do not_ ," she warned, "act like it's _our_ fault you're a drunken fool."

His expression sobered, and he just sat there, looking like a sad, drowned puppy.

She _really_ needed a hot chocolate and some breakfast. She was about to leave Will there, soaking wet ( _if he freezes to death, I won't have to worry about him ruining any more of my mornings),_ but at the last minute thought better of it.

_Damned motherly instincts kicking in._

She shoved a change of clothes (they had a box of Sherriff's Department sweatpants and t-shirts in a storage closet) and a blanket into Will's arms through the bars of his cell, and left to get breakfast at Granny's. When she returned, she also handed him a very large, very hot cup of coffee, and a donut. Then she sat at her desk on the other end of the room and glared at him while she ate her own donut. Will lifted his cup of coffee to her in a toast. She just intensified her glare until he looked away meekly.

David sat on the edge of her desk so that his back was to the cells. Emma handed him a donut, which he accepted.

"That was really nice, what you just did," he whispered.

Emma stared. Trying to set fire to a man in custody with just the heat of your gaze was _nice_?

"The clothes and the coffee," David explained, seeing her expression.

_Oh._

Emma just shrugged. She was Sheriff, it was her job to ensure that, you know, _people didn't die in her care._

"Will's a nuisance...but I think, deep down, he's hurting," David continued, taking a bite of his donut.

Emma was about to retort that she didn't think Will _had_ a "deep down", but stopped herself.

Instead she said, "The streets looked pretty clear. Did you get the plow guys on it, or am I going to have to help you hide two bodies?"

David snorted. "They're out there," he said darkly. And then, "They'll have the streets _all_ clean just in time for your date tonight, I suspect."

Emma smiled. She'd almost forgotten she had something special to look forward to that night.

"Speaking of my date, do you mind keeping Will here tonight, until it's over?" she asked, using her best, "I'm your only daughter please do me this favor" voice.

"Not a problem," David answered. "Honestly, that's probably in Will's best interest. I think Killian would murder him if he interrupted another of your dates."

Will fell asleep promptly upon finishing his donut, and slept the rest of the day. Before Emma left for the night, she slipped a takeout bag into his cell. _Someone_ may as well enjoy Granny's grilled cheese sandwiches (the thought of them still made her stomach turn).

David smiled at her as she left. She tried not to roll her eyes. She wasn't being _nice_ , she was just doing her job. It had nothing to do with hormones. Honestly.

_Next I'll be buying dinner for the spider in my car._

She stepped out into the cold night air and breathed deep.

_Date night._

She pulled out her phone and dialed Killian's number.

"So, Captain, where am I meeting you?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't be able to update again until next weekend, so enjoy this extra-long chapter!

"Meet me at the docks in an hour, Swan," Killian said through the phone, "And wear a dress."

She smiled impishly. She was going to make him regret he'd ever said that. She hadn't exactly been keeping up with that whole "wear a dress at least twice a week" thing (as much as she enjoyed wearing them, and as much as she enjoyed how much Killian enjoyed her wearing them, dresses were just too impractical for Sheriffing in). Tonight, however, she would make up for it.

Tonight, Emma was going to make Killian's jaw hit the floor ( _and his erection scrape the ceiling_ ).

At home, she fished a dress out of the back of her closet that she hadn't thought about in a long, long time. She had bought it on a whim in New York, when her and Henry had been living there with false memories. She had never found the right occasion to wear it, but tonight seemed like the perfect time for its unveiling.

She was glad she had never worn it for Walsh. This was a _Killian_ sort of dress.

It was black, short (not Lacey short; Emma short), low-cut, and left one shoulder bare. The best part was, it clung to her like a second skin.

Black panty-hose and black heels completed her outfit. She chuckled to herself in the bathroom, as she was standing in front of the mirror, pinning her hair up.

_Killian has no idea what he's in for._

Suddenly, she remembered something. She pulled the pregnancy tests out from their hiding spot and laid them on the sink.

Six days ago these tests had filled her with anxiety. She had been worried about Killian, worried about how the news would burden him, both because of his reservations about his fitness for fatherhood, and because of the pressure he had put on himself to find a job so he could settle in to the modern world.

But today...today she was _content_.

She _knew_ Killian would be a great father, even if he didn't ( _yet_ ). And he was about to open a bar -- well, he had a ways to go, but he _would_ do it, because he wanted to, and because it was the right fit, and because Emma (and Mary Margaret and David and Henry and probably Regina, too) would help him do it.

She knew what Mary Margaret would say. She would say "Things have a way of working out". And it seemed they had.

_Except for the whole maybe-Dark-baby thing._

There was still that. But her and Killian would figure it out, _together_.

For right now, she was going to focus on the good.

_Focus on you and Killian, focus on how tonight is a celebration, a big "fuck you" to those months you both spent suffering because of the Darkness._

She closed her eyes.

_You and Killian are having a baby. You're going to be a family._

She opened her eyes and looked hard at the pregnancy tests. With a wave of her hand, she made them disappear. She smirked a Killian Jones sort of smirk, and went to get her coat.

The _where_ turned out to be the Jolly Roger.

_Of course it is._

"Are you sure about this?" Emma asked, hesitating as Killian was leading her up the snowy gangplank. Last time they'd been aboard his ship she had been the Dark One, and she had been manipulating Killian, tricking him into giving her his cutlass.

"Come along, Swan," he said, squeezing her fingers reassuringly.

Still, she stayed put. He came back down the gangplank, put his arm around her waist, his mouth to her ear, and whispered, "That was the past, Emma, this is _now_. We mustn't let those memories stop us from living our lives and rebuilding our future."

She nodded. She trusted him.

He led her to the Captain's Quarters, and stood patiently at the bottom, holding her hand while she maneuvered her way down the steps in her heels. He helped her shrug out of her jacket, and when he stepped away and got the full view, his mouth fell open.

"That's indecent, Swan," he said, a little breathlessly. "You need to warn a man before you do something like that..."

_Alright, I've got the jaw on the floor part, now...?_

She just grinned at him, a little _devilishly_ , and swept over to the table, leaving him standing there, gawking. He recovered just in time to pull her chair out for her. He hung her jacket on a peg, then removed his own and did the same. He was wearing what looked like a new pair of jeans -- dark blue this time, not black -- a grey-and-red checked shirt, and a thick black pullover. 

"Henry helped me pick them out," he said sheepishly, as he took his seat. "He said these were more... _modern_."

Emma fingered the sleeve of his sweater. It was very soft. Emma noticed Killian had also combed his hair (not that it did much good; the pirate's hair sort of just did whatever it wanted whenever it wanted), and trimmed his beard. His stubble gleamed a little red in the glow from the lanterns. He looked very, very handsome.

"They're very nice," she said, admiringly. "You and Henry did a good job. But I think I like the vest and the skull necklace better."

He grinned at her in appreciation. 

Emma sat back and surveyed the table. Besides her and Killian's place settings, there were a couple of large, covered dishes.

"So, captain, what's on the menu?"

"Oh, my dear Swan, you are in for a treat," he said with relish, and whipped the cover off the largest dish, "The finest spaghetti and meatballs in all the land."

And they shared a laugh. Emma loved the sound of his laugh. She thought she could hear a bit of the carefree young man he must have been once, before he lost Liam.

Killian insisted on serving her. Emma watched the pile of spaghetti he was shoveling onto her plate grow larger and larger, nearly spilling off the plate before it was topped off with six incredibly large meatballs.

Emma eyed her plate, her suspicion from the other night resurfacing. 

And there was one more thing...

"No wine?" she asked teasingly. It wasn't like Killian not to have gotten wine (or beer, at least) for their date.

"Of course not," he said immediately, and then seemed to bite his tongue.

_He knows._

The realization sent a mild shock through her. 

Killian started talking quickly, telling her all about his and Henry's adventures trying to find a nice date outfit for him, but she was only half-listening. She picked at her food, all the while contemplating Killian's odd behavior. The huge plates of food, the giant cupcake, no wine with dinner...was it just a coincidence? She thought back to Sunday, the way his eyes had found hers immediately when baby Neal had been stuffed into his arms. And on Friday, he had definitely looked at her stomach when she'd said she'd been throwing up...

He definitely knew she was pregnant.

But if he knew, why hasn't he said anything?

_Because he knows you. He knows sometimes you need your space. And again he's done what he's always done: stood patiently by your side, supporting you, encouraging you, never judging..._

_He's known the whole time and he's probably wondering why you haven't told him yet._

When she was pregnant the first time, with Henry, she never got to tell Neal she was pregnant -- she never got to tell _anyone_ she was pregnant. There was no one to share the news with, no one to share the joy with. She'd been alone, and _lonely_. Her pregnancy had only made her miserable, because it reminded her of Neal, and thinking of Neal hurt so much she thought she would die.

This time was different; this time she had Killian. This time, she'd be able to give this kid what she hadn't been able to give Henry: a mother and father who loved each other, and...

_A home._

A place where they felt like they belonged, and _knew_ they were loved. From the beginning.

Tears slid down her cheeks. She gripped her fork tightly in suddenly shaking fingers.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Killian came around the table and knelt next to her chair. He gently wiped her tears away.

"N-nothing," she sobbed. _Pull yourself together! He's going to think something's wrong! You're going to ruin this date!_

"You're not crying for _nothing_ , love," his voice was low. "What's on your mind?"

She couldn't tell him _now_ that she was pregnant, not while her face was red and puffy and there was a rope of snot dangling from her nose, so instead she said, "I'm just happy things are finally working out."

"Aye, love, me too," he smiled, and it was a smile she recognized. It was his, "That's nice, but I was hoping you were about to tell me something else" smile, and she realized she'd been seeing it all weekend.

He started to stand, but Emma pulled him back.

"Wait!" she said, "I have something to tell you."

This was it. She was doing it.

"Yes, love?" he asked, and the _hope_ in his voice almost made her start crying again. His face was taut, eyes searching hers, brows drawn down, mouth slightly open, breath held, waiting...

_Hoping..._

Emma wiped her tears away. She didn't want him to think she was upset about being pregnant, because she _wasn't_. She wanted him to see exactly how _sure_ about it she was, how sure about _him_ and _them_  she was.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, and she held his gaze the same way she'd held his gaze in Granny's on Sunday, when he'd been holding Neal.

His expression relaxed, and that soft look of wonder slowly stole across his features. He cupped her face gently, hand trembling.

" _I know_ ," he murmured. Emma covered his hand with her own and smiled the smile only he could get out of her, because only he could make her feel this content, this happy.

Tears stood out in his eyes, and that startled her.

"Killian! Are you okay?"

"Aye, love," he said, sounding a little choked up. "I'm more than okay. I'm _perfect_. Everything's _perfect_."

And then he was kissing her. He started with her lips, and then moved on tenderly to her cheeks, forehead, eyelids...he kissed her hands, her palms, each finger, and then he kissed her stomach, reverently.

That last one did it for her.

She drew his face back up to hers, and kissed him. He parted his lips instantly, letting her in. She fisted one hand in his hair, and her other slid around his back, where she started pulling at his shirt, un-tucking it from his jeans. He stood suddenly, and she went with him.

They undressed each other slowly, taking their time, neither one in a rush.

"How do we..." he began uncertainly, fingers ghosting over her bare stomach, "With the babe?"

She led him to the bed and guided him onto his back, then straddled him. He rested his hand tentatively on her thigh. She took it and entwined her fingers with his, then lifted her hips and used her other hand to guide him inside her. His grip tightened on her hand. She slid down slowly, taking him in by increments. He let out a long, low breath when she finally settled her full weight back on him.

She didn't move at first, just savored the feeling of him filling her. She ran one hand up his stomach, following the trail of hair there up to his chest.

Her fingers caressed every scar they crossed. He watched her steadily. There was something very intimate about it. She knew all about his past, and she felt as if touching his scars was acknowledging it, and telling him she accepted it.

Finally, she moved her hand to his shoulder, and, bracing her weight there, she began moving, rocking her hips back and forth, slowly. _Very slowly_.

She thought back to the meadow, the first time she had felt Killian really loosen his hold on himself. She had responded in kind, and lost herself in him in a way she'd never done with anyone before, not even Neal. She had let her guard down -- really let it down -- for the first time in her life. On Friday, when she had gotten the results from the pregnancy tests, she had berated herself for that. But now... _this kid was conceived that day, and_ _this kid is going to bring us closer, make us a family._

She brought their joined hands to her lips, and took Killian's thumb inside her mouth. He let out a gasp and his hips bucked up to meet hers. She squeezed hard with her thighs, telling him to _slow down_. He relaxed once more beneath her.

She played her tongue along his thumb, watching Killian's expression, listening to his little intakes of breath. She slipped his thumb from her mouth and guided it down between her legs, pressing it against her clit. He began moving his thumb in slow circles. Then, she tilted her hips forward a little, searching, searching, until -- _right there!_ Killian's cock was hitting that perfect spot. She picked up the pace, and Killian following her lead, thrusting upwards to meet the fall of her hips.

Every stroke fanned the fire burning between her legs, building, building, until the warmth spread to her belly and then up her spine. She shivered in anticipation as the pressure built inside her. Killian seemed to sense that she was close, because suddenly his thrusts were coming faster, the pressure from his finger was a little harder...and then her orgasm swallowed her. She cried out and gripped Killian's shoulder. A few, hard, deep thrusts, and his orgasm immediately followed hers. He shot up, wrapping his free arm around her back, and buried his face in her neck, gasping softly against her skin as he came. She held to him tightly until both their trembling had ceased.

" _Emma_ ," he whispered.

"Killian," she answered.

He pulled his head up, and Emma saw the ridiculous grin plastered on his face. " _I'm going to be a father_!"

And then they laughed. Emma held his face cupped between her palms until their laughter subsided, and they were just gazing at each other, smiling. She couldn't stop looking at him, how _joyful_ he looked.

He rolled them onto their sides, and then pulled the blankets up to their shoulders.

"So, do you have any idea?" he asked.

"What?"

"About the sex -- whether it's a little pirate lad or a little pirate lass you're carrying."

She laughed. _Of course our kid's a little pirate. Daddy's little pirate. I could probably get that on a t-shirt..._

Emma _did_ have a feeling -- sort of -- but it seemed like bad luck to say it out loud, so all she said was, "Maybe." The way Killian grinned back at her made her think he also probably had his own idea.

"Well, then, what about names?"

 _He's really jumping right in._ Emma couldn't stop smiling. Her cheeks were going to start hurting, soon.

She almost wanted to say Liam, but she thought that would stir up too many negative feelings. Liam was the name of Killian's beloved brother, but it was also the name of another brother, a brother he had left an orphan...She suspected Killian may just want to lay that name to rest.

"What about Jack?" he suggested.

"I don't know..." she said, "I know Henry mentioned it, but I wasn't really into it."

"Neither was I, truth be told. Although, I do like Jacqueline," he said, and then added quickly, "If it's a girl."

 _If it's a girl._ Emma had a feeling she knew what Killian thought they were having. Which was funny, because she felt like it was a boy.

"Jacqueline Jones. Jackie Jones," she said, testing it out. "Sounds like a character from one of Henry's comic books. I actually kind of like it."

"So," he said, and his voice had that choked up sound to it again, "The child will be named Jones, after me?"

"Of course," she blinked at him. She hadn't even thought about it, it had just seemed obvious.

"Emma Swan," he said softly, " _I love you_."

Emma was slightly taken aback by the emotion in his voice.

"I love you, too." she said, resting her forehead against his. She could gaze into Killian's eyes forever. They were so _blue_ , and so expressive. She found herself imagining a little boy with Killian's bright blue eyes.

Henry looked like Neal. That used to hurt, once, and it still did, sometimes. That had been one of her fears, when she was pregnant with Henry -- that the baby would look like Neal, and be a reminder of him every day. This time she _wanted_ the baby to look like it's father. She wanted to look at this kid every day and be reminded of the man she loved, the man whose love had dragged her out of darkness -- not just _the_ Darkness, but the darkness that had been her life when she'd been unwilling (afraid) to love.

After a while, Killian spoke, and pulled her out of her thoughts

"We could do what your parents did, and name our child after a hero," he said, and started listing heroes whose name they might use -- mostly female, and most she'd never heard of.

A hero...Emma found she did have an idea for a name. _The problem is, will Killian go for it?_

Before she could suggest what she had in mind, however, Killian just shrugged and said, "I suppose we have plenty of time to worry about it. For now..." he trailed off, and gave her _the smolder_ (letting him watch Tangled was a mistake).

"For now, what?" she asked, slipping a hand beneath the blankets. He was already hard again. She gripped him, and he groaned.

_This night is far from over..._

* * *

 

Ian hit the dirt hard. The portal winked close behind him. He groaned and rolled onto his back. Above him was the barn ceiling, with the nighttime sky visible through the massive hole blown in it.

_Well, she was right about the where. And, apparently, the when. I wonder how far back I went..._

He got to his feet (groaning some more), staggered across the barn, and threw open the doors. Not only was it nighttime, but there was snow on the ground. When he had stepped ( _leapt angrily_ ) into the portal, it had been a sunny spring afternoon.

_Well, crap._

He'd really been hoping the time portal was a dud. He stared around, hoping to see some sort of clue that would tell him what year it was.

Suddenly, it hit him...he was alone. He started studying his surroundings more closely. There was no sign anyone else had been there recently. The barn looked very thoroughly abandoned, and the snow outside was fresh, with no tracks.

_Well, that's lucky, because I really didn't have a second part to my plan, after "follow her!"_

Now what?

He knew the portal would have created a pillar of light like a beacon, and someone was likely to come investigate (probably someone he was related to by blood), and since he didn't have an explanation for why he was there or _who he was_ or why he looked like two certain someones, he needed to hide, and hide _quickly_.

He took off at a jog, heading roughly towards the harbor. It took him twenty minutes to reach the docks, and by then he was out of breath, sweaty, he couldn't feel his toes, and his jeans were soaked up to his knees.

But it was there.

_The Jolly Roger!_

He could hide out on the Jolly Roger for a little bit, warm up, eat something, and then figure out his next move. He stumbled up the gangplank and headed towards the stern.

His teeth were chattering so loudly that he didn't notice the soft sounds coming from the Captain's Quarters. When he entered the room and lit the lanterns with a wave of his hand those soft sounds turned to startled shouts.

Ian reeled backwards, confused. His confusion quickly became alarm.

_Well, I've found mom and dad._

To be precise, he'd found _mom and dad_ in the middle of what looked to have been some very vigorous love-making. And he'd interrupted them. And now they were both staring at him with identical looks of horrified surprise.

"Oh my God," he turned away, staring hard at the wall.

He willed his brain to forget what he'd just seen, but the image of his parents' tangled limbs and sweaty faces and his dad's bare, white ass was burned into his mind's eye, probably permanently.

What should he do? He couldn't exactly introduce himself... _Hey, catching you two doing the naked pretzel was not how I planned on us meeting, but I'm your son from the future!_

He could leave--he _wanted_ to leave--but where would he go? 

_Nowhere._

He turned back around and opened his mouth to begin apologizing, and was just in time to hear his dad shout, "GET OUT!" and see his mom wave her arm and some white light shoot towards him before he was knocked backwards and everything went dark.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, it was a very long, busy week, but I finally found some time to write this chapter. Unfortunately, I won't be able to update again until next Monday or later (I'm flying to Greece on Tuesday and won't have the time or opportunity to write while I'm away).

Killian had been having _such_ a nice night. That is, until some delinquent child invaded his ship and interrupted what had been shaping up to be some of the best sex of his life. And now, instead of lying in the captain's bed with Emma, wrapped in post-coital bliss, he was in the hospital, standing over the prone figure of said child.

He glowered down at the boy, lying asleep on a hospital bed under a pile of blankets, with just his blonde head sticking out of the top. It seemed it was just his lot in life to have the majority of his intimate moments with Emma interrupted by teenage boys.

"Are you sure he's okay?" Emma asked for the hundredth time, hovering anxiously near the foot of the bed. Turns out, throwing the boy six feet across the room into a wall had not been exactly what she had meant to do. Apparently, being pregnant was affecting her magic.

"Yes," Dr. Whale answered patiently, "He has no concussion symptoms: no dizziness or confusion, vomiting, slurred speech..."

Aside from being unconscious, the boy hadn't appeared injured (at least, there was no blood). Killian had seriously contemplated tossing the boy back out into the snow, but Emma insisted they take him to the hospital, just to be safe. They had bundled the boy up in a blanket (Emma refused to let him use the rug; he didn't know why...) and put him in the backseat of the yellow bug (she also refused to let him tie the boy to the roof).

She had been tense the whole drive over, throwing uneasy glances at the boy in the rear view mirror. Killian had tried to reassure her that everything was fine, the boy was okay (probably), but she had only responded, "I could have really hurt him," and frowned stubbornly.

Killian knew she wouldn't relax until they received a verdict from the doctor, so he resigned himself to sitting in silence until then. He did take Emma's hand, though, and was relieved when she didn't resist. She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a little squeeze. She was worried, but she wasn't pulling away from him, she wasn't trying to carry the weight of the world upon her shoulders alone, as she might once have done. She was letting him in and allowing him to bear part of her burden.

Which was good, because stress probably wasn't good for the babe.

"So the boy was awake?" Killian asked Dr. Whale. He tried not to sound as if he was planning on throttling the miscreant as soon as he was conscious.

"For a short while, yes."

"Did you get his name?" Emma asked.

"No," Dr. Whale said, "He wouldn't tell the nurse or I."

" _Wouldn't_?"

Dr. Whale shrugged, "Hardly surprising, considering you said he broke onto your ship. He probably doesn't want his parents to find out."

Emma sighed. "The kid's lying in a hospital bed. His parents are _exactly_ who we need to find,"

_Yes, let's find the boy's parents so we can leave and pick up where we left off, before we were interrupted..._

"Did you get _any_ information from him?" Emma was using her Sheriff's voice now, which was interesting coming from a woman who was wearing a little black dress and had sex hair.

"No," said the doctor, "Except..."

"What is it?" Killian prompted.

"Well, he asked what year it was."

Killian blinked. "I thought you said he _didn't_ have a concussion?" Was Dr. Whale daft? Not knowing what year it was seemed like a pretty good indication that the boy had a brain injury.

"He doesn't. Other than not knowing what year it is, he's perfectly fine," he said, then added hastily, "Fine except for being half-frozen, of course."

"If he's _fine_ ," Killian asked, irritation flaring suddenly, "Why is he still here? Why can't you release him and let him wander back to wherever he came from?"

He caught Emma's sharp glance and dialed back his anger a little bit.

"We can't release him because he's a minor." Dr. Whale said slowly, as if speaking to someone very stupid. "He needs a parent or guardian to sign him out. And, as I said before,  he was half-frozen. His body temperature was dangerously low; he needs to stay here until it's back to normal and it's clear there's no permanent damage."

 _Permanent damage._ Killian had met more than a few sailors who had lost fingers or toes to frostbite, and last year Emma had almost died when she was trapped in that ice cave with Elsa.  

Killian's anger evaporated. He had allowed his frustration to cloud his mind to the fact that it was just a child there on that bed.

_He looks to be about Henry's age. How would you feel if it was Henry lying there?_

His guts clenched. He never wanted to see the lad hurt, and there was probably someone somewhere in Storybrooke who felt the same way about this boy.

"I'll stay here with him, until his parents are located," Killian volunteered. Emma looked at him quickly in surprise, and then gave him a soft smile of approval.

Killian was going to be a father. He needed to be the kind of man his child could look up to, and that man didn't hold onto anger, or indulge in petty quarrels. That man did what was right, even when it was inconvenient (or disrupted his sex life). He would watch over the boy until Emma found his parents. Which was hopefully very, very soon, because his lust was bubbling just beneath the surface, and Emma's dress wasn't helping matters.

Dr. Whale nodded, accepting Killian's apology, as it were, and left. Emma waited until the nurse had followed him out before leaving her post at the foot of the bed and coming over to Killian's side.

"Thank you," she said.

"Of course. Someone needs to stay here while you track down the boy's parents," Killian shrugged, and waited. He could tell there was something else on her mind...

"I'm sorry," she huffed, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets and looking at the floor.

"What for, Swan?"

"For how I've been acting the past hour. I was just --"

"Worried," Killian finished for her, "I know. I understand."

He pulled her into a hug. She leaned against his chest, pressing her face against his shoulder and slipping her arms around his waist.

"No need to apologize, love," he said softly, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"He's just a kid," she whispered into his shoulder, "I could have really hurt him."

"But you didn't," he said firmly.

"But I _could_ have. I kept thinking about the time I accidentally hurt Henry because I didn't have control of my magic. What if...what if I hurt the baby?"

Killian felt her begin to tremble, and tightened his arms around her. "You won't, love."

He remembered how nervous he had been, earlier on the Jolly Roger, suddenly aware that things were different because now there was a child growing inside Emma. He had never had sex with a pregnant woman (he knew some other sailors who got off on that sort of thing, but it had never interested him), let alone the woman carrying _his_ child, and he had found himself terrified that he might somehow accidentally hurt one or both of them.

But Emma had reassured him. And now it was his turn to buoy her confidence with his own.

"We'll figure out a way for you to regain control of your magic," he told her, "Besides, Swan, _I'm_ here. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, or our child."

Emma melted against him, and Killian just held her. He kissed her hair. It smelled like her flowery shampoo, and a little bit like the pillows from the captain's bed. He wanted more than anything to be back in that bed with her, holding her, laughing with her, talking about baby names and whether they might be having a little lad or a little lass.

She must have read his mind, because she pulled her head away from his shoulder and smiled warmly up at him.

" _Our child_ ," she said, clearly enjoying the phrase.

That giddy feeling from earlier bubbled up inside of him, and he felt that goofy grin spread across his face again.

He was still reeling from her announcement. He thought he had been ready for her to tell him, but it turned out he wasn't at all prepared for the impact those two simple words would have on him. There was a difference between knowing it and _knowing it_ , and now Killian didn't just know, he _knew_.

_He was going to be a father. They were going to be a family. There was going to be a little lad or lass calling him "daddy" and Emma "mommy". And that child would bear his surname..._

He kissed her then, fingers tangling in her hair. One of her hands found its way beneath his shirt and pressed against the bare skin of his back. Heat flooded him suddenly, and he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, and then his teeth, biting gently. She sighed against his mouth and parted her lips, allowing his tongue to dart in. It seemed his body was ready to pick up where they had left off on the Jolly Roger, because he was instantly hard. He knew Emma felt it, because she ground her hips lightly up against his. He lowered his hand to her rear and pulled her more snugly against him, then --

"Could you two please keep your tongues inside your own mouths while I'm in the room?" a voice drawled.

Killian and Emma broke apart. The boy was awake, propped up on his elbows, staring at them wearily.

_Teenage boys are a plague devised by a cruel, cruel god to stop grown men from enjoying themselves._

" _Have you just been pretending to be asleep this whole time?_ " Emma hissed, stalking over to the boy's bedside. Killian hung back. He _seriously_ needed another big coat.

"Yes," said the boy, matter-of-factly.

"Why were you _pretending_ to be asleep?"

"Well, it definitely wasn't so I could see you two exchanging body fluids again," the boy said sardonically. "You do realize you're in public, right?"

Killian took a moment to admire the boy's boldness in the face of Emma's fury. He had seen grown men quail beneath her glare, and here was this _boy,_ this sarcastic little shit, matching her green-eyed stare with his blue one.

Emma looked like she wasn't sure whether she wanted to kill him with fire or simply suffocate him beneath his hospital-issue blankets. As much as Killian dearly wanted to resume date night with Emma, he didn't think her conscience could bear such blatant homicide, so he stepped in.

"He was pretending to be asleep so we would leave him alone," he said. He was familiar with such ruses: pretend to be unconscious or dead in the hopes that your enemy would move on, leaving you to live another day. "And then, what? You were going to sneak out?"

The boy didn't answer, he merely spared Killian a glance before resuming his staring contest with Emma.

There was something vaguely familiar about the boy. The longer Killian looked, the stronger that feeling grew. Killian tried to recall if he'd ever seen him before (he hadn't exactly come into contact with a lot of children in Storybrooke). The boy was blonde, on the lighter side, like Emma, which wasn't such a common hair color for a teenage boy. He also had a horizontal scar along his temple, above his eyebrow. Had he seen the boy with Henry? The lad didn't seem to have many friends his own age. Maybe Killian had seen him in the schoolyard when he and Emma had picked up Henry? 

"What's your name?" Emma asked, and then added, "Tell me the truth. I'll know if you're lying."

Emma had a good memory when it came to faces. If she had never seen the boy, it was unlikely Killian ever had. Why, then, did he look so familiar?

"Ian. My name's Ian."

"How about a last name, Ian?"

The boy's tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously, but instead of responding, he just worried his lower lip between his teeth. Killian narrowed his eyes. Something about the gesture tugged at his memory. If he had to guess, he'd say the boy _wanted_ to answer, but couldn't. Was he afraid of something?

Emma seemed to be thinking along the same lines. She sat on the edge of Ian's bed, and laid her hand tenderly over his. "It's okay, you can tell us," she said softly. "We only want to find your parents, so you can go home."

"My _parents_ ," said the boy slowly and carefully, "Aren't here right now."

Emma's brow furrowed. Killian wondered briefly if pregnancy was affecting her super power as well as her magic.

Then, in a flash, Emma had pulled something shiny out of her coat pocket and, two clicks later, the boy was handcuffed to his own hospital bed.

The boy gaped at his wrist, clearly stunned. His expression quickly turned to outrage, however.

"Is that really necessary?" he sputtered, sitting up and tugging on the handcuff. Killian completely understood the feeling. Emma had once handcuffed him to a hospital bed, after all.

The boy was eyeing Emma's outfit. "You're not even on duty right now, why the hell do you have them on you?" he complained. Then he suddenly looked grave, and closed his eyes. "No. Never mind. Don't tell me. Gross. Fuck. _Fuck_."

Killian snorted. The boy had a sailor's mouth.

"You won't tell us who you are, where your parents are, _and_ you were going to sneak out, so yea, it's necessary," Emma said, ignoring the implication that she used her handcuffs for certain other activities. "Now, you're going to stay here while I go track down your parents. And trust me, kid, _I will find them_."

Something in her tone had cowed the boy. At least, he had stopped yanking on the handcuff.

Emma nodded towards the door, and Killian followed her. He glanced once at the boy on the bed. Something about the boy's fierce glare tugged at Killian's memory again. Maybe he was from the Enchanted Forest? There were always plenty of boys scuttling around the docks and back alleys of harbor towns, but Killian was sure he would have remembered a little spitfire like that. Hell, he probably would have enlisted the boy on the Jolly Roger.

"Going to the station, love?" Killian asked, when they had reached the privacy of the hallway. It was after visiting hours, and the pediatric wing was deserted.

"Yes. I'm going to find this kid's parents," she said doggedly.

"Are you sure you don't want to just take him home with us?" he teased her.

Emma rolled her eyes. "He's worse than _you_ , when you were in the hospital."

"I don't know, Swan, I think you were quite taken with me, even back then."

She smiled. "Well, at least this time I'm pretty sure no one's picking their way out of a pair of handcuffs."

"Yes, why _did_ you have those on you, anyway?"

Her smile broadened, but she said nothing, just started fixing the collar of his shirt. He grinned at her; they had gotten dressed in a hurry, and he was certain he looked a mess. Emma, however, looked impeccable (except for the mussed hair, maybe, but honestly that was its own sort of sexy).

_That dress._

" _Swan_ ," he growled, "I want to rip that dress off and have you right here in the hallway."

" _I can hear you, you know,"_ said Ian loudly.

Emma rolled her eyes, while Killian raised his own to the ceiling in a silent prayer for patience.

"I'll text you."

She kissed him, a lingering kiss that promised more to come later (whenever they found someone to take the damned boy off their hands), and then she was gone.

Killian returned to the room. He moved the boy's folded pile of clothes from the chair to the bedside table and sat down. Ian watched him warily.

 _That's right, lad_ , _now it's the big, scary pirate's turn to question you._

He grinned his most malicious grin and said cheerily, "Now, care to tell me why you broke onto my ship?"

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a little ehhhhhh about this chapter. Something's missing, but I can't figure out what, so I'm just going to post it and move on :)

"Now, care to tell me why you broke onto my ship?"

Jumping into that portal was by far the worst decision Ian had ever made (and he'd once tried to take the Jolly Roger out for a joy ride).

He felt torn. He really, _really_ shouldn't be here. He needed to get back to the barn and figure out how to reopen the portal so he could go home, before he seriously screwed something up (if he hadn't done so already). However, he had come here to warn Storybrooke, and if he didn't do that, if he didn't stop _her_ , he wouldn't have a home to go back to.

The handcuff was an obstacle to his escaping this hospital room, albeit a minor one compared to the challenge having his dad on guard duty presented. Ian was fast, but his dad was faster, and even if Ian _did_ manage to get the handcuff off without his dad noticing, he likely wouldn't make it to the door before he was caught.

_Five minutes alone, that's all I need._

He just had to wait until his dad left to get a coffee or go to the bathroom or polish his hook in a closet somewhere, then... _jimmy this handcuff, get my pants back on, and get the hell out of here._

"I asked you a question, lad."

Ian sighed inwardly. He knew his dad was doing his best to look intimidating, but you can't really scare someone when they've seen you dressed as a princess having a tea party with your little sister. On multiple occasions.

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"And you can stop the swaggering," his dad said in a hard voice, "I know a front when I see one."

Ian's sarcastic reply withered on his tongue. This was no-nonsense dad, this was "tell me the truth and maybe ( _maybe_ ) I'll let you off easy" dad.

"I was looking for a place to hide," he said, and knew right away that he should have stuck to silence.

"Who were you trying to hide from?"

Ian rubbed behind his ear nervously, and saw his dad's eyes narrow. He quickly lowered his hand back to the blankets, and let off a stream of curses inside his head. If his dad looked at him any harder, he was going to realize he was looking at a blonde, 13-year-old version of himself, and then...

Well, he wasn't sure exactly _what_ the consequences of his parents finding out who he was were (he had heard his parents talking and knew his mom was pregnant, so his _existence_ was safe, but in terms of _other things_ he knew the options ranged from getting a red bike instead of a blue bike for his 5th birthday, to his sisters not being born, to the universe imploding). 

Ian had to avoid arousing his dad's suspicion any more than it already was, which meant keeping his eyebrows under tight control, his tongue away from the corner of his mouth, and his smirk down to a Killian Jones Level 2, at the very least.

_Easier to make the Jolly Roger fly._

"I'm going to guess and say _your parents_ ," his dad finally answered for him. "What's the problem? Are you afraid of them?"

"I'm not _afraid_ of my parents," Ian said scathingly, before he could stop himself. The cursing in his head intensified.

"Well, what then?"

Ian should have known better: it was typical of Killian Jones not to let his son wiggle out of _anything._

"Just..." he struggled to come up with a vague yet satisfying explanation, "They can't know I'm here. It could cause a lot of trouble if they found out."

"How come?"

This time Ian just shut his mouth firmly. He was done answering questions. To emphasize this, he flopped back down on the bed, pulled the covers up to his chin, and closed his eyes.

\--

The boy very pointedly laid back down, and was quiet. It seemed his lips were sealed on the subject of his parents. Killian watched him for a while, wondering if he was actually asleep this time, or just pretending again.

He was certain now that Ian _wanted_ to answer, but felt he couldn't. He wondered what sort of trouble this boy had gotten himself into... 

A thought came to Killian suddenly.

"You remind me of someone," he said out loud.

"Who?" the boy asked quickly, turning his head and fixing Killian with his blue stare.

"Me, when I was a lad."

The boy was watching him with an expression Killian couldn't quite read. He hadn't turned away though, which Killian took to mean the boy was interested, so he continued.

"I was always getting into trouble when I was a lad. I had a head full of steam, and more balls than brains."

The boy snorted and sat back up, looking a measure more relaxed than he had five minutes ago.

"I was brazen, as well, in the face of authority," Killian said, recalling how the boy had easily returned Emma's glare. "Which only earned me more severe punishments, usually extra latrine duty."

"My dad once made me scrub his entire ship, top to bottom," the boy said with a grin.

Killian laughed. There was more than a little mischief in the boy's smile and the flash of his eyes. Henry was a good lad who occasionally got up to trouble, usually for good reason...Killian had the impression Ian's brand of trouble was of an entirely different magnitude, something more along the lines of the hell Killian himself had raised as a boy.

Killian pitied the boy's poor parents.

"How long did _that_ take you?"

"2 weeks," the boy answered with a grimace.

"Must be a fairly large ship," Killian said, impressed.

"My dad definitely thinks so..." Ian said, lips quirking.

If the boy's father owned a ship, Killian might have seen him at the docks, he might know who he was...but he couldn't risk asking, not yet, not when he had the boy speaking candidly for the first time. Killian didn't easily share details of his past or personal life, but something about this boy made him feel safe to do so. Maybe if Killian shared a little more about himself, he could get the boy to open up even more...

"I always had my older brother keeping me out of trouble, or trying to," he said,  "He'd take the blame, when he could, and when he couldn't, he'd help me finish whatever task I was accorded as punishment."

He felt an ache, as he always did when he thought of Liam, but he pushed it away.

"How about you? Do you have anyone to help keep you out of trouble?"

The boy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, there's my cousin -- he's not my cousin, exactly, he's, uh, well, it's hard to explain...but, he's usually getting into trouble _with_ me. My best friend though, she helps."

Killian saw a small, sheepish smile flit across the boy's face, a smile he recognized.

_Someone has a crush._

"And this girl, your best friend, does she return your affections?"

The boy's mouth dropped open in shock, and his cheeks flushed scarlet.

"I...I d-don't --" he stammered, and trailed off into a red-faced silence.

Killian smirked. He let the boy fiddle with his blankets in an embarrassed sort of way for a few minutes. When the boy's cheeks had returned to their normal hue, he asked, "So, who is he, your father? If he owns a ship, I've likely seen him around the docks."

The boy's expression became closed-off instantly.

_Damn._

Killian's brain was churning, wondering how to recover, when the boy collapsed back down onto the bed and asked, "If I'm going to be a prisoner, could I at least have something to read?"

Killian had pushed too hard, and probably shut the boy down for good. 

"Of course," he said, standing up and heading towards the door. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," Ian answered sullenly, and rattled the handcuff for emphasis.

Killian felt a pang of sympathy for the boy.  

"Do you need anything else? Something to drink, perhaps? Or some Jell-O?"

"Yea, do you have any eyeliner I could borrow? I lost mine, you see..." the boy said, expressionless.

Killian's goodwill evaporated. He left without another word and walked away, down the hallway, hand clenching and unclenching in frustration. The cheek on that boy was astounding. Now Killian understood how _his_ tutors must have felt, although that didn't make him feel any less irritated.

The waiting room was littered with toys and children's books. He cast around, looking for something that might interest a teenage criminal.

_Advanced Lock Picking For Boys? Grand Theft Pirate Ship? 100 Ways to Cheat at Connect Four?_

All Killian was able to find, however, were several books by someone named Dr. Seuss, a coloring book that still had a couple of blank pages in it, and one yellow crayon. He took one last look around, and it occurred to him that his and Emma's house would be like this soon, cluttered with playthings and all the other brightly colored paraphernalia that accompanied a child.

The thought caused a little flutter of excitement in his stomach. Killian already knew he was going to read to their child every night, the way he had been read to as a lad, before his father abandoned him and Liam and their childhood had abruptly ended. He made a mental note to ask Henry for book recommendations.

He was about to return to Ian's room when his phone rang. It was Emma.

"Yes, love?" he answered, "Have you found the boy's parents?"

"Not yet," she replied, "I just got back to the station."

She sounded a little jittery, so he asked, "Is everything alright?"

He heard her take a deep breath over the phone. "I made an appointment to see the doctor next week."

"Dr. Whale?"

"No, the OB/GYN," she said, and then, correctly interpreting his silence as confusion, "It's like a midwife, but, you know, a doctor. They can check to make sure everything's okay with the baby."

"Ah. Ahhhhhhh," he said, suddenly understanding, and then froze. "Wait, Emma, is there something wrong with the baby?"

"No!" she said quickly, and Killian resumed breathing. "It's just a thing everyone does here. A normal thing. The doctor runs tests and can do an ultrasound --"

"Can they take one of those swirly black-and-white photos of the babe?" he interrupted. He remembered Robin showing him what he claimed was a picture of his and Zelena's unborn child.

"That's the ultrasound, yea," Emma laughed. "We can get a sneak peek at our little pirate. We might be able to hear its heartbeat, too."

 _Their little pirate._ He tried to imagine what it would be like to see a picture of the child growing inside Emma, to hear its heart. His stomach was warm and fluttery again.

"How's the kid?" she asked.

Killian's annoyance returned. "The only thing I could get out of him is that his father owns a boat. I don't know if that helps..."

"It does," Emma said slowly. "A lot, actually. I can narrow down the search using that. Thanks, Killian."

"Of course, love."

"I love you."

It was becoming more and more difficult to remember a time when he had always been the one to say "I love you" first, when she had been afraid to say it because of how  _vulnerable_ it made her feel.

"I love you, too," he said, and closed his eyes, wishing he was next to her, saying it into her ear, kissing her.

On his way back to the room he spied a rack filled with pregnancy pamphlets he hadn't noticed earlier. He read their titles silently, growing more and more perplexed. In the end, he took one of each. He tucked them and the books for the boy under his arm, and flipped one-handed through a particularly thick brochure titled "Pregnancy Week by Week" as he walked.

He realized he didn't even know how far along Emma was. Four weeks? Three? They'd only been back from the Underworld for a month. How early was it possible to confirm pregnancy? He was certain there was a pamphlet under his arm that could tell him.

 _Pregnancy begins when a fertilized egg implants in the uterus,_ he read. _The most common way this occurs is through unprotected vaginal intercourse, during which a man ejaculates sperm into the vagina._

Ian seemed a little squeamish, and Killian wondered how the boy would react if Killian started reading to him aloud from one of these pamphlets. He grinned evilly at the thought.

_Revenge for that eyeliner comment._

When he reached Ian's room, however, he was surprised to find the bed empty and the handcuff dangling from the bedpost. The books and pamphlets slipped from his grip and crashed to the floor. He stepped backwards into the hallway and looked swiftly up and down it, but it was empty.

Killian swore.

He fumbled his phone back out of his pocket and hit the "Emma" button.

"We have a problem, Swan," he said, when she answered. "It seems you were wrong: apparently I'm _not_ the only one who can pick his way out of a pair of handcuffs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this picture of Ian and Neal as this combination between the Weasley twins and Ron/Harry, with Rowan playing the role of Hermione.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments, they're so encouraging and they make me really happy (because I never ever thought I'd write anything that other people would be interested in reading). Also, thank you for your patience. It took me a really long time to write this chapter, partly because I've been very busy with work stuff, and partly because the first draft was just completely wrong so I had to trash it and start all over.
> 
> I feel like this chapter's a little slow, but I promise the action will pick back up in the next chapter, which I should have finished in the next few days. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was around 10:30 when Emma finally left the hospital. On her way out, she booked an appointment with the OB/GYN (because that was something she could do this time, along with buying a stroller and picking out a theme for the baby's bedroom and eating ice cream whenever she wanted).

It was a little...overwhelming. There were all these things to do, all these normal pregnancy things she had no idea how to go about doing because she hadn't been able to do them with Henry.

_Henry._

Now that Killian knew she was pregnant, she had telling Henry to look forward to.

Part of her was anxious that the news would upset Henry, and make him feel as if he was being replaced. With Regina and Robin, it was different: Regina had _chosen_ Henry. Roland and Rowan were part of Regina's life now too, but they were part of a package deal, a consequence of her choosing Robin. No matter what, Henry would always be special. Emma, on the other hand, had given Henry away, which she knew from experience was something that left lingering feelings of unworthiness and inadequacy.

Emma herself sometimes still struggled with those feelings, and Henry...well, Henry was only 13 years old, with 13-year-old emotions. He was such a good kid, so cheerful and loving, always optimistic...Emma didn't want this to hurt him.

When she got to the station, it was completely deserted: Will Scarlet had been released back into the wild, and David must have gone home early. Emma was beginning to think it was time to hire a deputy or two, because at least then she'd be able to delegate.

_Here, find Mr. and Mrs. Ian for me and tell them to come deal with their kid because I need to go home and have sex with my boyfriend._

Speaking of Killian, she wanted to tell him about the doctor's appointment (and she also wasn't ready to sit at her desk and stare at the computer for what might be hours), so she called him.

He answered the phone with a, "Yes, love?" that made her smile, and followed up with, "Have you found the boy's parents?"

"Not yet. I just got back to the station."

"Is everything alright?"

_Not exactly. I'm worried Henry will resent me for having another baby. And I'm also afraid that our baby might have been affected by my being the Dark One, and I don't know how to deal with it or even how to tell you so I've been avoiding it..._

But neither of those conversations was a phone conversation, so instead she took a deep breath and said, "I made an appointment to see the doctor next week."

"Dr. Whale?"

Luckily, although it seemed Whale would eventually be the one delivering the baby, the more everyday aspects of obstetrics and gynecology were handled by a different doctor.  

"No, the OB/GYN," she said. Killian was silent, and Emma realized he probably had no idea what an OB/GYN was. "It's like a midwife, but, you know, a doctor. They can check to make sure everything's okay with the baby."

Emma realized that last bit sounded a little ominous, but it was too late, Killian was already asking, "Wait, Emma, is there something wrong with the baby?"

"No!" she said quickly, while in her head she was thinking: _Dark baby, Dark baby, Dark baby._ "It's a thing everyone does here. The doctor just runs tests and does an ultrasound --"

"Can they take one of those swirly black-and-white photos of the babe?" he interrupted.

"That's the ultrasound, yea," she laughed. She was surprised he knew about them at all, but was pleased. And the eagerness in his voice just killed her.

Killian's reaction to her pregnancy was far beyond what she had imagined. She had expected he would be happy, sure, but she had also expected some reservations, because fatherhood was something she knew he had never dreamed would be in his future. But Killian was overjoyed (more like completely gung-ho) and his elation was infectious...every time he smiled because of the baby happiness bubbled up inside Emma and filled her with warmth.

"We can get a sneak peek at our little pirate," she said, and then added, "We might be able to hear its heartbeat, too," because she knew how excited it would make him.

Emma was very tempted to say _his_ heartbeat. She had a feeling (a very strong feeling she couldn't explain), that they were having a boy. She would keep that to herself,  however, until they could find out for sure at about 18 weeks. And then she was going to sit Killian down and tell him what name she wanted for their son (and he would either love it, or she'd spend another 18 weeks _making_ him love it).

Emma realized something else, something that ate away at the little bubble of contentment inside her...their little sneak peak wouldn't reveal the gender, but it _would_ reveal how far along she was, and when Killian found out she was 10 weeks pregnant, he was going to do the math, put two and two together, and...

_Dark baby, Dark baby, Dark baby._

She wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"How's the kid?" she asked abruptly, seizing onto the only immediately available distraction.

"The only thing I could get out of him is that his father owns a boat," he answered, a little gruffly. "I don't know if that helps..."

"It does," Emma said slowly. "A lot, actually. I can narrow down my search. Thanks, Killian."

"Of course, love."

"I love you," she said.  

"I love you, too," and she heard the longing in his voice, the desire to be next to her, not separated by however many miles it was between the hospital and the sheriff's station.

But she couldn't do anything about that right now, not until she found that kid's parents.

She took a seat at her desk and fired up the computer, wishing she had thought to bring a change of clothes. She should have known better than to think she'd be allowed a quiet night alone with Killian without some sort of disruption, because honestly, that was just her life: long stretches of life-threatening, supernatural events punctuated by brief periods of calm.

If she was honest with herself, though, she knew that those microscopic moments, especially moments like the weekend her, Henry, and Killian had just spent together (and date night too, up until that kid gate-crashed), made the rest worth it, even if it didn't feel like it at the time.

She tried to envision how that was all going to work when they had the baby. She pictured herself chasing after some monster with an infant bouncing along in a sling on her back. Or, even more amusing, Killian with the sling, cutlass in one hand, diaper bag in the other.

Emma rested her hand on her stomach, and for the first time the gesture didn't feel furtive. She allowed herself to imagine what their little boy might look like, and saw Killian's coal-dark hair, flashing blue eyes, and rascally smile.

_This kid's going to be trouble, just like his father, I know it._

She tried not to think about another troublemaker, a blonde, teenage troublemaker, but something about Ian kept tugging at her thoughts. There was something maddeningly familiar about him, but Emma couldn't pin it down, which was the main reason she had fled the hospital and left Killian behind to watch him. She was good with faces, and she was good (amazingly good) at being able to tell when people were lying, but something about this kid was throwing her off.

_Just who the hell is he?_

All she had to go on was the boat thing and his name, and she wasn't even sure Ian _was_ his real name. Something about the way he had said it sounded... _incomplete_ , and it wasn't just because he hadn't also told her his last name.

She felt a little (a teeny, tiny bit) guilty leaving Killian with Ian, but she was hoping that either the kid would eventually sass himself into exhaustion and then Killian could worm some information out of him, or Killian would use his scary pirate face and worm some information out of him.

Apparently, however, there was a third option, which involved no worming of information and the kid escaping from the hospital.

Emma had just pulled up the list of everyone who owned a boat license on the computer, looking for anyone named Ian (maybe he was a Jr.), or anyone who seemed like they might name their kid Ian (anyone who had a similar Scottish or Irish sounding name), when Killian called her back.

Hoping that somehow the kid's parents had materialized at the hospital (but also hoping that maybe they hadn't shown up, because once Ian was off their hands Emma would be free to worry about _other things_ ) she answered her phone.

"Hello?"

"We have a problem, Swan," he said without preamble. "It seems you were wrong: apparently I'm _not_ the only one who can pick his way out of a pair of handcuffs."

She had to pause for a moment, not quite sure she was really hearing what she thought she was hearing.

"Are you telling me," she said slowly, "that that punk ass kid broke out of a pair of police-issue handcuffs and then waltzed his way right out of a hospital unnoticed?"

"I don't know about the waltzing part, unless it's possible to waltz out of a window..."

_A window? Was he freaking serious?_

"Who the hell is this kid, Spiderman?"

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

She wasn't sure what the most surprising part of all this was: that a 13-year-old in Storybrooke knew how to lock-pick handcuffs (not even Henry could do that, and Henry knew a thing or two about sneaking around), or that he had escaped out of a window.

  _Oh, it is on like Donkey Kong now._

She was going to find Ian, and then find his parents, and then make the kid do a particularly humiliating form of community service, something very public and preferably viewable from the station window.

She switched into bail-bondswoman mode.

"See if his footprints lead you anywhere. I'll take the car out and start patrolling. It's 5 degrees out; the kid has to take shelter somewhere."

She was already compiling a list of possible hiding spots. She dismissed the docks right away: Ian seemed smart enough not to return to the place where he had gotten caught the first time. That being said, he apparently _wasn't_ smart enough to wear a coat outside in the middle of winter, so it was a definite possibility that the kid could freeze to death before they found him again. She hoped the kid had enough sense to seek out light and warmth.

"Stay inside, Emma. Please. It's freezing, and you're pregnant."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm _barely_ pregnant. And I'll be in the squad car, with the heat on."

She immediately regretted arguing. Sometimes she fell back into old habits. Sometimes Killian expressed his concern and her first instinct was to take offense, as if when someone worried about you that must mean they thought you were weak and couldn't handle yourself. But she knew Killian didn't think either of those things, he just loved her with a sincerity that sometimes dazed her.

After so many years of relying solely on herself, it difficult getting used to having someone care that deeply, that unconditionally for you.

"Will you at least call your father and ask him to help? I don't like the idea of you out there on your own."

Emma acquiesced, not because she thought she needed help, but because it would ease Killian's mind.

She tried calling her dad twice before she left the station, but both times there was no answer. She tried her mom's phone too, with the same result.

_So much for reinforcements._

It was unlike her parents not to answer their phones when she called. They were probably just asleep already...or doing other things. Emma pushed that thought very, very far away. She would call them again later. 

For now, she ran through a list of all the places that were still open this late that Ian might go to. Storybrooke was a small town, and there really weren't many options...all she could think of was the Fish & Chips place and The Rabbit Hole (hell, if the kid could break out of handcuffs and escape the hospital out of a second floor window, he could probably con his way into a bar).

She drove slowly, scanning the streets, peering into alleys and the narrow walkways between buildings, hoping for a glimpse of blonde hair. After fifteen minutes of driving and seeing no sign of Ian, she began to feel slightly panicked. She didn't know why, but she felt strangely responsible for this kid. She thought it might be because the kid had ended up in the hospital because of her, because her powers were out of control.

Emma grimaced at the memory of seeing the kid fly through the air and into the wall, then falling to the floor with a thud and lying limp. She had been afraid she had killed him. Killian's assurances that the boy was still breathing and had a pulse had been little comfort. The memory of doing almost the exact same thing to Henry once still haunted her, and it had played on repeat inside her head as they drove to the hospital with Ian unconscious in the backseat of the bug.

She wanted to end this thing with that kid and put it behind her, so she could go back to ignoring the potential threat to her unborn child in peace. Except...

Except she couldn't, not really. Telling Killian had ended that in-between period where she had allowed herself to pretend she had nothing to worry about. But she had to face reality, and the reality was that the baby she was carrying had been conceived while she was the Dark One, and she doubted that sort of thing was risk-free.

She tried to remember if Zelena's magic had malfunctioned while she was pregnant, but she had seemed in perfect control. Which meant there were two possibilities: either Emma's powers were erratic because her magic was light magic and somehow pregnancy affected light magic differently than it did dark magic, or there was something about _her baby_ that was affecting her magic.

As she drove, the Pawn Shop caught her eye from up ahead. The front windows were aglow with light from within. Belle must still be in there, pouring over Gold's ledgers, trying to organize the shop. Emma slowed the car and parked a few buildings down.

The Pawn Shop being open felt like a sign, a sign telling her she needed to stop being afraid, stop allowing herself to be distracted.

She could do it, she could go in there right now and ask Belle for a unicorn horn. And then, at least, she'd be taking control of the situation, whatever the outcome.

She raised a trembling hand to the door handle and grasped it. She had been so happy just a few hours ago, and now all her fears came rushing back. She thought of Killian, how absolutely _ecstatic_ he had been (his eyes lit up like a little kid's on Christmas every time the baby was mentioned).  But what if their baby was Dark? What if, after everything they'd done, everything they'd been through, they were never able to outrun the Darkness?

_Killian._

Emma removed her hand from the door handle. She had made a promise to always believe in love, to believe in _them_. As much as it was going to hurt to have to tell him that their baby might be affected by the darkness, she had to believe that they would figure it out _together_ , no matter what.

 She stuck her hand in her pocket, looking for her phone so she could call Killian, but she couldn't find it.

_Crap._

She'd left her phone at the station. With a sigh, she pulled away from the curb and turned the car around.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold's not going to be in this story, because I'm just so fed up with his constant flip-flopping that I don't even want to deal with him. Plus, he would kind of get in the way of what I have planned. However, in light of yesterday's episode, and the revelation that Belle's pregnant with his child, I'm going to take that into consideration while writing. Damn, Storybrooke is really experiencing a baby boom.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the very end of the previous chapter, because as I was writing this one I had a way better idea for it. Basically, instead of driving away from the pawn shop and continuing her search for Ian, Emma realizes she left her phone at the station and goes back to get it.
> 
> I have the next chapter partially written, so I'm hoping to post it tomorrow or Sunday. Enjoy!

Ian scurried down Main Street, sticking close to the storefronts, trying to move quickly but inconspicuously. His parents were probably out looking for him by now, possibly with reinforcements (most likely master-tracker Grandma Snow and Grandpa "I Will Always Find You" David...maybe even Aunt "You Will Get A Fireball to the Face If I Ever See You Kissing My Daughter Again" Regina).

He gulped. He needed to get to the library quickly, before anyone saw him.

It was bitterly cold out, and he shivered as he scurried. He was still only wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and everything below his knees was still damp from earlier. He didn't know how long it took for frostbite to set it, but he was pretty sure numb toes were not a good sign, and the numbness was slowly creeping its way upwards.

_Although, if they have to amputate my legs, I could get two wooden legs installed and then dad would have to let me be a pirate._

_Peg-Legs Jones. I bet Marco could carve me some really awesome legs, too._

He giggled.

His amusement ended abruptly, however, as he drew level with Granny's. Up ahead, where normally he would see a pub sign hanging over the little building adjacent to Granny's patio, there was a sign shaped like an ice cream sundae. He ran over, mouth hanging open.

_Any Given Sundae? What the hell is this? Where's The Crow's Nest?_

He stared at the blue paint and the flowerbox and the cutesy little striped awning in horror. He looked right and left desperately, hoping he was somehow on the wrong block, that he'd made a mistake. But no, he was standing where his dad's bar should be, only it _wasn't there_.

Ian had grown up in that bar. The Crow's Nest had been there his whole life, and he had just assumed that it was timeless, that it had always been there and always would be, forever. Granny's and The Crow's Nest felt like the center, the heart, of Storybrooke, and finding one half of that heart missing made him feel sick. He suddenly felt more lost and out of place than he had all night. A sort of desperate hopelessness flared up inside of him.

_I want to go home._

He wanted to go home and see his parents, his actual parents, the parents who looked at him with recognition in their eyes, and _love_. He wanted to go home and hug his sisters -- he didn't even care that they drew all over his sketchbooks with glitter markers, or used his model pirate ships to transport their Barbie dolls around the house, or that they had turned his Jolly Roger playhouse in the backyard into a princess ship and even convinced dad to paint it pink. He just wanted to _see_ them again, and mom and dad, and Neal and Rowan.

He didn't belong here, where all the people he loved and who loved him either weren't born or had no idea who he was. He was a bloody idiot for thinking he could come here and be a hero.

Tears stung his eyes. He seized a fistful of snow from the sidewalk and hurled it at the front window of Any Given Sundae. The snow struck the window with a satisfying thump, and just like that his anger cooled.

_Ok, Ian, time to stop being a baby. Did Henry cry when he was stuck in that storybook and had to save everyone from being trapped in an alternate universe forever? No. Did mom cry when she saw how ugly dad looked after Hades beat him up? No. Did Dad cry when mom became the Dark One and they were separated from each other for like the millionth time? Maybe only on the inside. If you cry now you'll be an embarrassment to your entire family._

He took a deep breath and balled his hands into fists. He knew what he had to do.

He was about to start walking towards the Sheriff's station when he heard a noise coming towards him. Panicking, he flattened himself against the front door of Any Given Sundae and tried as hard as he could to be invisible.

The sound of a shuffling walk drew nearer, punctuated by faint humming. From the right came Will Scarlet, stumbling along heavily. Ian had the fleeting thought that Uncle Will was coming in for a shift at the bar, before he realized that there was no bar, not yet.

Will Scarlet saw Ian, waved, said "Good afternoon" in a very slurred voice, then continued down the sidewalk.

Ian's jaw dropped. He had never seen Uncle Will drunk; he had never even seen Uncle Will _drink_. The man had been sober for as long as Ian could remember.

_What sort of fucked-up, Willy Wonka world is this?_

Shaking his head, still astonished, Ian started jogging towards the station. He needed to set things right, because _that_...that was not how things were supposed to be.

He reached the corner, saw the library, and slowed to a walk again. _Ok, one quick detour._

 

* * *

 

 When Emma pulled back into the station parking lot, she saw Regina's black Mercedes parked next to her yellow bug. Regina was leaning against the passenger side door, facing the street. Curious, Emma parked the squad car. It wasn't usual for Regina to just pop by unannounced. Her first thought was that there was another crisis, because _of course_ , but when she saw the grave look on Regina's face she realized it must be something else. She parked the squad car next to the Benz and got out.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"You tell me," Regina returned.

Emma stared at her in incomprehension. Did Regina mean Ian? Because Emma was handling that...

Regina reached into her purse and pulled out something long and thin wrapped in white velvet. Emma froze. She knew _exactly_ what that was.

"Yesterday, at my house, you were asking about unicorns," Regina said, and carefully unfolded part of the wrapping to reveal the black spiraled object within. "I saw the look on your face when I said _horn_. You may be good at detecting lies, Emma, but you're not very good at telling them yourself."

Emma's eyes darted from the unicorn horn to Regina and back. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, so she just closed it again.

"I can only assume you don't intend to grind the horn up to use in a potion, so the only other possibility is that you mean to use it to see your child's future."

Emma swallowed nervously, unable to meet Regina's eyes.

"Now," continued Regina, "that might mean Henry, in which case, I deserve to know what's going on. Or," she said, letting the sentence hang for a moment, "it might mean there's _another_ child whose future you want to see, and in that case I still might also need to know what's going on."

"It's not Henry," Emma whispered. It was all she could manage to say.

"Does Hook know?" Regina asked softly.

Emma's eyes darted up to meet Regina's. Regina's stern expression was gone, replaced with something Emma might hesitantly call _sympathy_.

"He knows," Emma said. "Well, he knows I'm pregnant, but he doesn't know...he doesn't know the other part."

Regina seemed to understand, and Emma was grateful she didn't have to spell it all out for her.

"Well, your secret is safe with me," Regina said, then re-wrapped the unicorn horn and offered it to Emma.

Emma made no move to take it, however. She _couldn't_. She felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Emma!" Regina said quickly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was only trying to help. If you'd rather I returned this to Belle, I can."

She started putting the unicorn horn back in her purse, but Emma stopped her.

"Wait, don't."

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Regina asked gently, without a trace of her usual demanding tones.

"I..." Emma hesitated.

_I can't._

"If you don't want to that's fine."

"It's not...it's just, it's just that I haven't told Killian yet. About the baby. That the baby..." she took a deep breath, "That the baby was conceived while I was the Dark One".

Regina seemed unfazed. " _Are_ you going to tell him?" There was no judgment in her voice; it was just a question.

Emma bit her lip. She had _just_ decided that she was going to tell Killian, that they would find out about the baby together, but now that the opportunity to do it without involving him was right here in front of her, she hesitated. There was a possibility that everything would be okay and she wouldn't have to tell Killian at all, that she would never have to see the devastation on his face.

Regina held the unicorn horn out to her again, and this time Emma took it. She held it out in front of her with shaking hands, as if she was holding a bomb that was about to go off.

"Be careful," Regina warned. "That horn contains very powerful magic: it will activate if even the smallest amount of your skin makes contact."

Emma just nodded dumbly.

"I want you to know," Regina said, turning to leave, "that whatever happens, whatever you decide, you -- and Killian -- have my support."

"Thank you," Emma said, and, after tucking the unicorn horn carefully into her coat pocket, hugged Regina.

Regina stiffened, obviously not used to displays of affection, and then returned the hug.

"Thank you," Emma said again, as she pulled away, and tried to express in just those two words how much Regina's friendship meant to her.

Regina nodded, smiled in a satisfied sort of way, and returned to her car. Emma watched her drive off before going into the station. When she entered the office she stopped short.

Ian was there, sitting at her desk in her chair with his feet propped up. He looked up from the book he was reading when he heard her come in and smiled.

"The front door was locked..." she said slowly.

"It was," he agreed.

"I'm pretty sure the library was closed too," she eyed the stack of books on her desk, and the one in his hands. _Le Morte d'Arthur, The Mists of Avalon, The Once and Future King, I Am Mordred._ Was this kid serious?

He shrugged noncommittally. Emma thought that maybe she should be annoyed, or angry, but she was sort of just...amused.

"Let me get this straight," she said, motioning for him to get out of her chair so she could sit down. "You escaped the hospital so you could steal some library books? And then you broke into the police station to, what, turn yourself in?"

"I didn't _steal_ them," Ian said indignantly, moving out of her comfy rolling chair and into the plastic one on the side of the desk. "I _have_ a library card."

Emma just rolled her eyes. She took off her coat, hung it from the back of her seat (carefully, mindful of the unicorn horn in the pocket), and sat down.

_Time to figure out who this kid is and why he's such a pain in the ass._

"Oh," Ian said suddenly, taking what she recognized as _her_ cell phone out of his jeans pocket and waving it at her, "Killian's been calling you."

Emma stared, dumbfounded.

_Make yourself at home, kid._

Ian handed the phone over, and Emma took it.

"Is Killian the guy with the dark hair and the hook?" Ian asked, making a hook with one index finger for emphasis.

"Yes."

"Is he your husband, then?"

"Boyfriend." Emma said. For some reason, that bit of information seemed to surprise Ian. His eyebrows were nearly at his hairline.

"Speaking of Killian, I have to go call him back," she said, standing up. "Do I have to handcuff you to the desk to make sure you don't run away again?"

"Please don't," Ian responded, face screwed up.

Emma went into her dad's office, and closed both the doors. She dialed Killian's number and then sat in her dad's chair, facing forward so she could see Ian through the glass. The kid had resumed reading _Le Morte d'Arthur_. She watched him turn a page and then let his hand drifted upwards to absentmindedly trace the scar along his temple. Emma wondered where the kid had gotten a scar like that.

"Emma!" Killian answered his phone, sounding worried, "Is everything okay? I've been trying to call you."

"Yes, yes," she reassured him, "Everything's fine. I forgot my phone at the station. I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's okay, love." he sounded calmer. "Did you find the boy?"

"In a manner of speaking," she said wryly. "I came back to the station to get my phone and found him sitting here."

There was a pause on the other end, then, "Wait, are you telling me the boy broke out of the hospital just to go to the Sheriff's station?"

"Yep."

"I'm coming over," he said darkly.

"No, no, no," Emma said quickly. "I feel like if you come to the station right now you're going to kill this kid."

" _Yes_ ," he growled.

She tried not to laugh. "Um, I think maybe murder is not a good idea? I don't want our son to grow up without his father."

That caught him off guard. " _Son_?"

"Ah, well, you know," Emma said, flustered. "If it's a boy."

"You think it _is_ a boy, don't you Swan?" Emma could hear his smirk over the phone.

Emma cleared her throat and changed the subject. "How about you get the Jolly Roger all cleaned up, and I'll meet you there in an hour? We can pick this night up where it left off..."

She let the sentence hang suggestively.

"All right, Swan, have it your way," Killian laughed. "I'll see you in an hour."

Ian watched her walk back to her desk. Emma hoped she looked intimidating.

"Alright kid," she said, sitting back down, "Did you come here to tell me who your parents are so I can call them?"

"Something like that," he said hesitantly, closing his book and putting it on top of the stack.

Emma was a little surprised, she had expected to have to exchange jibes with this kid for at least another half hour before she got anything useful out of him.

"I'm listening," Emma prompted.

The kid scooted forward so he was sitting on the edge of his seat. His eyes were on his hands, twisted in his lap.

_He's nervous._

"I _want_ to go home," he said, eyes catching hers momentarily before returning to his lap. "But I _can't_."

Emma feared that the kid was about to tell her that his parents were abusive or neglectful, or that they were dead. He opened his mouth to continue, but whatever he said was drowned out by a very long, loud rumble from Emma's stomach.

Suddenly, she realized she had barely eaten anything all day.

A slow grin spread across Ian's face. Again, Emma felt that tug, like she knew who he was, knew where she had seen his face before, but couldn't quite remember.

"Maybe you should eat something before we talk," he said.

"No way, kid. We're both staying right here until you tell me who your parents are, how to contact them, and why you've caused me so much trouble tonight."

"How about I tell you who my parents are if we can go get something to eat," he wheedled. Emma was strongly reminded of Henry.

"You're not exactly in a position to be bargaining here," she said.

"Well, I have information that you need, so I am, actually," he pointed out.

Emma frowned, weighing her options. Ian had that same stubborn look on his face that Henry had sometimes. If she refused his deal, he might clam up.

"Fine," she said.

Ian's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Really?" he asked in astonishment.

"Let's go before I change my mind," she stood up, put her coat on (feeling the unicorn horn heavy against her side), and started walking towards the door. Ian scrambled after her. He tripped over the little garbage can in his haste, and Emma had to stop and wait for him to right himself and then right the garbage can.

It was the same garbage can she'd accidentally kicked across the room a few days prior.

_Poor garbage can has been having a rough week._

Emma watched Ian shuffle over with her hands on her hips. She looked him up and down. "You need a coat. Wait here."

She rummaged through the clothes in the storage room. The Sheriff's Department sweatshirts weren't nearly warm enough, and too big besides. Then she saw the leather jacket hanging by the door. It was Killian's old leather jacket, the one he hadn't worn in a while.

She tried to remember why it was there, and thought it might have been from the time her and Killian had been having sex in the office after hours, and had been forced to sneak out when they heard David and Mary Margaret enter the station.

They had left the jacket behind, and Killian must have just bought a new one rather than try to explain to David what it was doing at the station.

She removed the jacket reverently from its peg, then went back to the office and tossed the jacket to Ian.

_Killian must never know._

Ian put it on eagerly. It was big on him, but it looked somehow... _right_.

"Is it supposed to smell like metal polish?" he asked.

Emma couldn't tell if he was joking or not, until he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. _What a punk. How did he even know the jacket was Killian's?_

"Can I sit in the front seat?" he asked hopefully, following her out to the parking lot.

"Nope," she said, and got in the car. He got in behind her, and then slid over so he could talk to her through the little gap in the Plexiglas separating the front seat from the backseat.

"So, Granny's?"

This kid was growing on her a little bit. Under different circumstances (if he was a friend Henry had brought over and not a delinquent currently in police custody), she might even _like_ him.

She adjusted the mirror so she could see him without turning around and froze. Staring back at her in the rear view mirror _were Killian's eyes_.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

She whipped her head around quickly to look at his face. He was looking back at her curiously, one eyebrow quirked.

He looked like Killian. He looked _a lot_ like Killian.

Several things clicked into place at once.

" _Who are you?_ "

"Huh?" Ian asked weakly.

"Get out of the car," Emma said brusquely. She threw her door open and got out, then stood waiting with her arms crossed over her chest. Ian stared at her from the backseat for a few seconds, and then obeyed. He closed the car door carefully and then turned to face her, tense, looking as if he was ready to bolt.

"Who are you?" Emma demanded.

"I told you, my name's Ian--"

"No, I asked _who are you_."

He watched her warily for a moment, and then said, "I'm -- well, my real name is Killian. Killian David Jones. But everyone calls me 'Ian' so they don't confuse me with my dad."

A chill spread through Emma. This couldn't be real, this couldn't be happening.

"I'm your son," he said.

She was breathing hard and fast through her nose. She felt suddenly faint. Her vision started going dark around the edges, and then she was falling.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to post another chapter until the weekend (I have a bunch of my students' artwork to get ready for a show next week and it's going to take forever). Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I changed how unicorn horns work a little bit, because I really, really wanted to.

Emma was dreaming. She was standing in the small bedroom next to hers and Killian's, only it wasn't bare, as it was in real life: it was a nursery. In her arms was a wiggly bundle wrapped in a navy blue striped blanket. She was holding _her son_. Bright eyes, eyes the exact same hue as Killian's, stared up at her from beneath a tuft of fuzzy blonde hair.

_Ian._

"Hello," Emma said in a shaky voice. She stroked his cheek gently, and was rewarded with a little smile. She rocked back and forth and bounced him, and the smile grew, followed by a happy gurgle. Emma couldn't help it: she giggled too.

Against one wall was a crib that looked startlingly like her crib from the Enchanted Forest, only the colors of both wood and upholstery were darker, more boyish. Next to the crib was a wooden chest overflowing with stuffed animals, most of which were sea creatures. One squishy-looking red octopus was closer to escape than the others; its tentacles brushed the blue rug. Emma gently tugged it free and offered it to Ian. His eyes focused on the stuffed animal, and his face wrinkled in concentration as his hands reached out, fumbling. When he had a firm grip on the octopus, his smile returned.

 _This_ was what she wanted for her and Killian's child. _This_ was what she wished she could have had with Henry.

The scene changed, and Emma's arms were suddenly empty. She whipped around, frantic, but found Ian immediately. He was no longer an infant, but looked to be about two years old, and he was snuggled in Killian's arms. They had both fallen asleep in the rocking chair in the corner. _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ lay open in Killian's lap, and a stack of other children's books lay in a pile on the floor next to the chair. Ian was curled against Killian's chest, clutching the red octopus, blonde head nestled under Killian's chin.

Emma was afraid to move, afraid she'd make a noise and wake them up. They looked so peaceful. She thought she could stand there, watching them sleep forever, and be perfectly content. Emma tiptoed to the bed (no longer a crib, but a big-boy bed) and retrieved a blanket. She laid it gently over her two sleeping boys. Killian eyes cracked open, and found hers. He smiled.

"Emma," he said softly.

And then the scene changed again. She was in the kitchen, slicing strawberries on the counter. She heard the front door open, and turned to see Ian racing towards her yelling, "Mom! Mom!" and waving a piece of paper over his head. Killian followed closely behind, grinning. Ian looked to be about five or six years old this time. He was wearing a Storybrooke Elementary School uniform and a comically large Batman backpack. Emma saw red tentacles sticking out of the top of the bag, between the zippers.

"Look what I drew!" Ian shouted , and then held his paper up so she could see. She barely had time to register that it was a crayon drawing of what she assumed were people, all composed of variously sized circles with sticks for limbs, before Ian's hand was in the way.

"See, this one is me," he said, pointing to the figure with spiky yellow hair and a big red scribble for a hand, "and I'm holding One-Eyed Jim."

Emma assumed One-Eyed Jim was the red octopus.

"Here's dad, in black," Ian continued, finger moving across the paper, "This is Henry, and I made Henry's legs really long because he's an adult and he's in college now. And here's you, and here's _Jackie_ , and I know she's still in your stomach and you can't see her yet but I really want to see her so I drew her."

He said this last part very fast and Emma almost didn't catch it all, but when she looked at the figure that was supposed to be her (the one with yellow hair down to the floor), she understood: she had a stomach that was bigger and rounder than any of the other ones, and inside that stomach was a smaller circle with a little pink stick figure drawn inside it...

Emma looked down at herself and saw that she was pregnant. She was _very_ pregnant.

She looked back at Ian, at his earnest face and sweet, cheerful smile, and grinned back.

"I love it," Emma said, taking the drawing from Ian. "I'm going to hang it on the fridge."

"See, lad, I told you she'd be pleased," Killian said, beaming down proudly at his boy. He stood behind Ian, one hand resting on Ian's blonde hair.

Ian looked back up at Killian, and in that one look Emma knew, she knew by the way Killian's face lit up when he looked at Ian, when he looked at her...

Ian was _light_. Ian was the sun and Emma and Killian were two planets in his orbit, soaking up warmth and love. Ian was the heart of their little family.

Emma hugged Ian to her. He threw his arms around her protruding belly and hugged back.

"Careful, Ian," Killian said, suddenly sounding anxious, "Careful of the baby."

"I _know_ , dad," Ian said, with exasperation. He planted a kiss on Emma's stomach. "Jackie's _tough_ , like mom. A hug's not going to hurt her."

Emma caught Killian's eye and they shared a laugh.

"C'mon lad, let's get your school things off," Killian said, smiling, and steered Ian back towards the front door. Emma went to put Ian's drawing on the fridge, and found it crowded with many other drawings, mostly of pirate ships accompanied by a red octopus, all signed "Ian" in a childish scrawl.

" _Mom!_ " Emma heard faintly. She turned to look at Ian, but he was by the front door, chattering away animatedly to Killian as Killian helped him remove his backpack and hang it on a peg.

She heard it again, louder, more insistent, " _Mom!_ "

Emma opened her eyes to see Killian's blue ones staring at her intently.

No, she corrected herself, not Killian: Ian, her son. Her son from the _future_. He was crouched on the pavement, hovering over her worriedly.

She shut her eyes again. _This isn't real._ _This is still my dream. I fell asleep on the Jolly Roger, and this whole Ian thing has just been a dream._

There were hands shaking her shoulders, gently. _See? There's Killian, waking me up._

"MOM!"

_Okay, fine, it's real._

"Mmmmm," she groaned. She realized one of her hands was in her coat pocket, fingers wrapped around the exposed unicorn horn.

_Fuck. How did that happen?_

She removed her hand from her pocket slowly, careful not to touch the horn again. That dream hadn't been a dream, it had been a _vision_. She had just glimpsed her child's future, the child sitting right next to her.

She kept her eyes closed tight. She wasn't ready to deal with this yet.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to call dad?"

 _Dad._ It took Emma a moment to realize that he meant Killian. In her mind's eye she saw Killian asleep in the rocking chair in the nursery, Ian asleep in his arms. She saw his blissful smile when he'd woken up. She saw the absolute happiness on his face when he'd brought their boy back from school. She heard his carefree laugh, the laugh that made him sound younger.

Those visions...they had all been so perfect. Was that truly her child's future? Was that truly _her and Killian's_ future?

"Mom, _please_ ," Ian pleaded in a whisper. "I'm scared."

That confession brought her back to reality. Her eyes flew open.

_You don't admit to someone that you're scared unless you trust them. This kid -- your son -- he trusts you. He's here all alone, god knows why, but it's probably something big, and he needs you._

_Don't let him down._

Emma looked at Ian, and for a moment she was looking at the little boy who had so proudly showed her his drawing. Then she saw him, _really_ saw him. His eyes were exact copies of Killian's, as were his mouth and his ears. He even had the same eyebrows and hairline. The only differences were that Ian's face was a little rounder, and his nose a little shorter. And the _hair_. The blonde hair changed the overall affect dramatically; it was why Emma hadn't noticed the resemblance sooner.

The blonde hair, and the freckles on his nose...those were from her.

"You look just like Killian," she said.

Ian sat back on his heels, grinning, and his relief was palpable.

"That's what everyone says. Except for the hair, the hair --"

"The hair is from me," Emma supplied, a smile tugging at her lips. This was weird, it was totally weird. But it wasn't unbelievable, not by a long shot.

"Can you sit up?"

She nodded, and started to do so. He helped, hands supporting her until she was steady.

"How do you feel?"

She tried to gauge how injured she was, and found that, surprisingly, nothing hurt at all.

"I feel fine," she said, confused. She had fallen. She was lying on the cement in the parking lot. How could she feel _fine_?

Ian understood her confusion. "I managed to stop you from falling," he explained. "I couldn't hold you up, though, I'm sorry. I tried to put you down as gently as I could."

"How?" Emma asked. Ian was smaller than Henry. There was no way he had the strength to support her full weight.

"Magic," he admitted hesitantly.

"The lamps on the Jolly Roger," Emma said, suddenly remembering. "You lit them with magic."

Ian looked uncomfortable, and changed the subject.

"You should drink this," he said, and pressed a bottle of water into her hands.

She decided to let him slide on that thing about the magic, for now. She took several small sips from the bottle. The water was freezing cold, but it felt good. Her head cleared almost instantly.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said, "But why are you here? _How are you here_?"

"Ah," he glanced away. "Um, I think you're going to want to be sitting somewhere a little more comfortable for that. And," he added sternly, "You need to eat something first."

"Is it bad?" she asked, and then clarified, "The reason you're here. Did something bad happen?"

"Yes," he admitted quietly.

She regretted asking. She took a deep breath and downed the rest of the water.

_Always in a crisis, always rushing from one bad thing to the next. And we're going to try and raise a child -- children -- in this environment?_

"Let's go to Granny's, kid," she said, and let Ian pull her to her feet (he was stronger than he looked).

" _Now_ can I sit in the front seat?" he asked.

"Nope," she said, brushing dirt and gravel from her legs and coat.

Ian started to protest, and Emma let him splutter for 30 seconds before adding, "Just kidding."

Ian grinned in response and raced around the front of the car to the passenger side. Emma slid into the front seat next to him. 

"Can I put some music on?" he asked, and then when he saw the look on her face, he snatched his hand back. "Right. Sorry."

The waitress at Granny's (a young girl whose name Emma didn't know) came around the counter as they entered, looking apologetic.

"Ahhhh, we're about to close," she said.

Before Emma could respond Ian leaned around her and said, " _Please_ can we stay?"

Emma didn't expect that to work, but to her surprise the waitress looked at Ian and visibly hesitated. Emma saw an opening.

"We won't be too much trouble, we just want something quick," she promised. "You can serve us and leave. We'll lock up."

"Granny won't mind," Ian added, with a bright smile.

The waitress glanced at Ian again, and bit her lip.

_Are you serious? This kid is like twelve and he's already charming ladies?_

_Well, he 's Killian's son. I guess I shouldn't be surprised._

"Okay," the waitress said finally. "What can I get you guys?"

Emma turned to ask Ian what he wanted, but he was already ordering.

"Two grilled cheeses, two orders of onion rings, two Pepsis, and two hot chocolates with cinnamon on top to go, please."

The waitress nodded, gave Ian a warm smile, and left to prepare their order. Emma threw Ian a disbelieving look, but he just grinned and shrugged. She followed him to a booth ( _apparently he's in charge now_ ) and sat across from him. He looked at her expectantly.

_Right, questions._

She decided to start soft.

"So, how did you know I keep a water bottle in the glove compartment?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. It was such a Killian expression. "I just told you I'm your son and Killian Jones is my dad and you're surprised I know all your hiding spots?"

" _All_ my hiding spots?"

"Well, not all of them," he said, thoughtfully. "I _still_ can't figure out where you hide the Christmas presents every year..."

Somehow it pleased her that, years down the road, she was still going to be able to outsmart this clever little punk. And his sister.

 _His sister_.

_Another baby. A little girl. Killian and I are going to have a little girl, too._

She shoved that thought away. Now wasn't the time.

"You have magic?" she asked.

His expression became guarded. "Yes," he answered. "Is that okay?"

The waitress brought their Pepsis, and Emma was afforded a moment to think. Although she had embraced her powers, she still believed that magic was, in general, more trouble than it was worth. _Magic always comes with a price_ , as the saying went.

 

"Are _you_ okay with having magic?" Emma asked, taking a sip of her Pepsi. She wasn't worried about the Darkness anymore. She'd _seen_ Ian, and knew nothing Dark could come from someone who shined so brightly.

"It's annoying sometimes," he said, fiddling with his straw. "But sometimes it's really useful. Aunt Regina says I'm the most incompetent person she's ever had the displeasure to train, though."

"She says the same thing about me," Emma laughed, and Ian grinned.

Their order arrived and they fell into silence as they busied themselves with their meals. Emma was _starving_. She demolished her grilled cheese and onion rings, then sat back, completely satisfied. The waitress waved to them on her way out, and then her and Ian were alone.

Ian shoved his plate of onion rings towards her.

"You don't want them?" she asked. He shook his head, but she felt guilty taking food from him, especially when he'd barely finished his grilled cheese, so she pressed further. "You're, you know, growing and everything, don't you need to eat?"

"I think the me in _there_ ," he said, pointing to her stomach, "wants them more."

Emma took the onion rings, and tried not to think about how weird it was that Ian was simultaneously the size of a tangerine inside her stomach and also a teenager sitting across from her.

"Wait!" Ian said suddenly, and Emma almost dropped her onion ring. "You are...you are _pregnant_ , right? I mean, I didn't interrupt my, uh, _conception_ earlier, did I?"

"No, kid, you're safe," she said, and patted her belly.

She flashed back to her vision, again, and remembered how a little Ian had kissed her pregnant stomach, and proclaimed his sister _tough_ , like their mom.

_Jackie._

Excitement jolted through her, but she forced it back down again.

_Later, later. First, you need to figure out why your kid decided to pull a Marty McFly._

"So, this whole Back to the Future thing...are you here on purpose, or by accident?"

Ian was suddenly grave. He rubbed behind his ear (a gesture Emma recognized as one of Killian's nervous ticks), and said uncertainly, "Both?"

_Oh, geez._

"Ok, let's start with _how_ you got here."

"Zelena's time portal," he answered reluctantly.

Emma wasn't surprised, but she was suddenly apprehensive. Of course the time portal was the most obvious explanation, but she had been hoping for a scenario that was a little more DeLorean and a little less Wicked Witch.

"Did _you_ open the time portal?"

"No."

"Who did?"

She knew the answer before the words escaped his lips.

"Zelena," he said grimly.

Her apprehension was replaced with _fear_. There was a lot of unfinished business between her and Zelena. Emma suspected that Zelena showing up while Emma was pregnant was no coincidence. Her hand was on her phone, ready to dial Killian.

" _Is she here now?_ "

"No," Ian said quickly. "She's not here yet. But she's coming."

"When?"

"I don't know. I jumped into the time portal after her...but I guess I stayed in longer, so I travelled back farther?"

"Ok, stop, just stop," she said suddenly. It was _too much_.

_Always in a crisis, always rushing from one bad thing to the next_

Emma's phone buzzed. She snatched it up, grateful for the distraction.  It was a text from Killian: _I'm at the station_. _Where are you? Is everything okay?_

She had completely lost track of time. She was supposed to have met Killian on the Jolly Roger half an hour ago.

"We gotta go," she said, gathering their plates. "Killian is waiting for us."

Ian was silent during the car ride back to the station. He didn't even drink his hot chocolate. Emma halted him in the parking lot with a hand on his arm.

"What's wrong?"

"It's really weird being here."

He had this _lost_ expression on his face that made him look young and vulnerable.

"I know," she said. She knew _exactly_ how he felt. She knew what it was like, talking to your parents but not _really_ talking to them, because they had no idea who you were, because you weren't born yet. She had been an adult and it had still cut deeply. And this kid was just a _kid_. "It's going to be okay. We're going to figure this out."

"I think dad hates me."

Her heart broke a little, then.

"He doesn't hate you," she said quietly, and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her, only this time he was almost as tall as her. She rested her cheek against his hair. He even _smelled_ like Killian, like the shampoo he used. "Your dad loves you. You haven't been born yet, and he already loves you _so much_. You're going to change his whole life."

She closed her eyes, and pictured the way Killian's face lit up every time they talked about the baby, even though she'd told him she was pregnant less than 12 hours ago.

"He _is_ really annoyed, though," she said, pulling away and smiling at him. "I mean, you did interrupt our date, and, you know...."

Ian made a face like he was going to throw up. Emma tried not to laugh.

"Are you going to tell him?"

Emma thought for a moment. "Soon. Maybe tomorrow. Let me butter him up, first."

Ian narrowed his eyes like he knew "buttering up" meant "sex". Emma tried not to think about how Ian had walked in on her and Killian _very vigorously_ going at it, or how handsy her and Killian had been while making out next to Ian's hospital bed.

"I need you to follow my lead in there," she said, "Whatever I say or do, just go with it. Got it?"

Ian nodded. "I trust you."

And she sensed that he did.  

He followed her into the station, walking like he was going to his execution. Killian was pacing the office. He looked over sharply when he heard them enter, and his expression grew stormy when he caught sight of Ian. Emma felt Ian hesitate beside her.

"You," she said, turning to him. "Cell. Now."

She jerked her head towards the cells.

Ian didn't miss a beat. "Would you like me to lock myself in, as well?"

_That's my boy._

"If you could, that'd be great," she said, and handed him the ring of keys from her coat pocket.

Ian headed towards the cells, purposely going the most direct route, which took him right past Killian. Killian watched Ian the whole way, expression more in the Captain Hook range than Killian Jones. Ian held Killian's gaze steadily until he was past.

_Kid's got guts. Killian's going to admire that, once he gets over the shock that the "little criminal" is really his son._

Ian closed the cell door and locked it behind him, then tossed the keys to Killian, who caught them easily.

"Let's go," he said to Emma, turning his back on Ian in his cell. Emma saw Ian's look of despair behind Killian's back.

"I'll be back in the morning," she said, throwing him an apologetic look before turning off the overhead lights. Her desk light remained on, so at least it wouldn't be pitch black.

_I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise._

Her and Killian walked arm-in-arm to the car.

"To the Jolly Roger?" he asked.

"Actually, do you mind if we just go back to the house?"

He stopped and turned to face her.

"Is everything alright, Emma?"

"Yes, I just really want to go _home_."

He smiled softly, "Of course, love. Let's go _home_."

She drove them back to the house, thinking about Zelena.

_Maybe we should leave. Maybe Killian and I should just pack up the bug and drive out of Storybrooke, go somewhere safer. Somewhere without magic. Somewhere our lives won't be in danger every other day._

Killian reached for her hand. She threaded her fingers through his and rested their entwined hands on her thigh.

Emma thought back to her visions, all those quiet moments she had witnessed. All those _happy_ moments. _Here_. In Storybrooke. With Killian and Ian.

To live those moments, all the rest would be worth it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just sort of an interlude. Emma and Killian needed a chapter alone together :)

The past 24 hours had been the longest 24 hours of Emma's life. She had tossed and turned all night (while Killian slept like a rock beside her), assailed alternately by images from her vision, thoughts of Zelena, and guilt over leaving Ian alone at the station.

She stood in the doorway of what in her vision of the future had been Ian's nursery. The room was bare, but she could recall perfectly the crib, the chest of stuffed animals, the rocking chair where Killian was going to read stories to their son.

The warmth of that memory kept the maelstrom of the rest of her thoughts at bay.

Emma took a sip of her coffee. It was near dawn, and she figured she still had a solid hour before she could leave for the station without arousing suspicion.

She heard Killian stirring in the next room. She waited silently, listening, but the noise ceased. He remained asleep. She went downstairs so her heavy thoughts wouldn't disturb his dreams. She wanted him well-rested for when she told him that Ian was their son. And she _had_ to tell him. Today, probably. Emma couldn't see an alternative.

The fact that Ian was her and Killian's son had slowly cemented in her brain overnight. It wasn't as hard to believe as it might have been, once. What worried her was that, as far as she knew, he was stuck here, and Emma knew what being stranded out of your own time with the possibility of no return was like. Not only was he probably miserable and lonely, he was in danger of catastrophically altering his timeline.

She and Killian needed to help get him home.

Emma poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, and stood at the counter, staring out of the window. The part of this whole situation that she was having trouble wrapping her head around was Zelena. It wasn't that Emma found it implausible (because, _honestly_ , she had known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this would happen, that Zelena would come back for her), it was just that it was the worst possible thing she could imagine happening right now.

Bring back Cora, bring back Gold, bring back Hades... _anyone_ but Zelena.

Zelena was deranged and bloodthirsty. Her personal philosophy seemed to be "an eye for an eye", and Emma had played a large part in separating Zelena from her daughter...

Emma tried to imagine having her baby -- _Ian_ \-- ripped from her at birth. She had gone to Neverland and faced down that little shit Peter Pan to save Henry; she stormed the Underworld and spit in the face of death to rescue Killian...if her and Killian's child was taken away, she would tear the world apart to get him back (and she wasn't even going to _try_ imagining what Killian would do).

Emma was contemplating just going to the station and making her excuses to Killian later when she heard him coming down the steps. He was wearing a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a sleepy expression, and nothing else.

He shuffled wordlessly across the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind, engulfing her in the blanket with him. The first thing she noticed was the _heat_ ; it was utterly amazing that one person could generate so much of it. The second thing she noticed was that Killian had an erection, and it was pressed firmly against her rear.

"Looking for a place to put that?" she teased, and rocked her hips back. He groaned against her neck and tightened his arms around her. She did it again, harder, and then his teeth were grazing her shoulder and his hand was down the front of her pajama bottoms, fingers buried in the warmth between her legs.

Her breath was coming short and fast. She shoved her flannel pants and underwear down her thighs. Killian's fingers disappeared, to be replaced almost immediately by his cock. He slid inside her easily and began thrusting, the blanket slipping from his shoulders to pool on the floor at their feet.

She looked over her shoulder and caught his eye. He was flushed, his hair was in disarray...he was _gorgeous_. She pushed back as he drove forward, _squeezing_ as she did. His hand tightened convulsively on her hip and then relaxed. She started rocking faster, forcing him to increase his pace. She braced herself against the counter as he pounded into her.

Sometimes there was something _very_ satisfying about a quick, hard fuck. Sex with Killian was always intense. Sometimes it was slow, sometimes it was fast; sometimes it was tender or passionate, sometimes lustful and without abandon.

This morning it was _hungry_.

Emma completely lost herself in the rhythm, in the wet slide of skin and impact of bodies, in Killian's soft moans and her panting.

She knew Killian was close when his hand tightened on her hip again and his thrusts became frantic. Suddenly he gave a little gasp and fell forward, trembling, against her. She turned her head to capture his mouth in a kiss. He clung to her lips fiercely, hand gripping the back of her head. He used the pressure of his hand on her hip to turn her around and lift her into his arms. Emma wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist.

"You don't know what you do to me," he murmured, pressing kisses along her collarbone, breath tickling her skin. "You're _beautiful,_ Emma. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."   

Killian sat her down gently on the kitchen table. He knelt, slid her pajama bottoms and underwear off, and guided her legs over his shoulders. He flicked his tongue teasingly against her clit, then paused.

"Killian," she breathed. He smirked in response. Was she going to have to beg? Because she definitely wasn't beneath begging, not for _this_.

Before she could do so, however, his tongue was against her clit again, circling lazily. He alternated between gentle probing with just the tip of his tongue and pressure with the flat of it, taking his time. Her orgasm built slowly, and the climax nearly overwhelmed her. She cried out, back arching, toes curling, fingers gripping Killian's hair (probably a little too hard, though he didn't seem to mind). He kept his eyes locked on hers, his one hand wrapped around her thigh, fingers making little dents in the flesh there.

The waves of her orgasm gradually receded, and she felt the tension she had been carrying around inside of her loosening.

 _Satisfying_ didn't even begin to cover it.

_Is it bad to be so thoroughly enjoying sex right now when we're about to plunge right into another crisis?_

She knew what Killian would say: _no_.

His head was resting on her thigh, smiling peacefully. Emma stroked his hair, brushing the strands to the side how liked it. His eyelids drooped.

"Let's go back to bed," she suggested softly.

"Mmmmhmmm," he mumbled.

Killian fell asleep again as soon as his head touched the pillow. Emma lay in his arms, head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Sometimes she forgot that they shared a heart, that his heart was _her_ heart.

She wasn't sure for how long she was lying there, lulled by the rhythmic _thump-thump, thump-thump_ , when Killian's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"What's on your mind, Swan?"

"Who says anything's on my mind?"

"You're worried," he said, "I can _feel_ you worrying."

Emma smiled. She loved that he could read her. She loved that he was the _only one_ who could read her.

"Is it Ian?" he questioned.

"A little bit," she answered reluctantly.

"Don't worry," he grunted, "I'm sure a night in the brig will do him some good."

_I hope you remember that later when I tell you he's your son._

Killian's eyes remained shut, but his hand was draped over hers where it rested on his chest and his thumb was moving back and forth, stroking her skin, so she knew he was awake, waiting patiently to hear what else she was "worrying" about.

"I was thinking," she said after some time, "That the little bedroom next to ours would be a good nursery. For the baby."

That woke him up. His eyes were bright, his expression soft.

"I think that sounds perfect," he smiled. "And speaking of the nursery, tell me about _our son_. How do you know we're having a boy, Swan?"

Emma had completely forgotten she'd mentioned that to him on the phone last night. She shrugged and tried to sound casual. "I just...I have a _feeling_."

"You mean the sort of _gut feeling_  you get? The ones that usually turn out right?" he cajoled. Then he asked quietly, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It was just a feeling. I didn't want to say anything until we could find out for sure, just in case. Besides, you seemed to be into the idea of having a girl, I didn't want to discourage you," she smiled up at him, so he would know she wasn't being accusatory or judgmental.

" _Swan_ ," Killian said, "I'll be happy no matter the sex of the child. I just thought maybe you'd want a daughter this time, since you already have Henry. And..." he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Emma knew he hadn't meant to start saying whatever it was that he had been about to say, that it was some dark thought from deep down that he had wanted to keep a secret, but she had a feeling she knew where this was going, and there was no way in hell she was just going to let it slide.

" _And?_ " Emma prompted sharply.

" _And_ ," he said, determinedly, "And I thought maybe you wouldn't want a son who only had a father like me to look up to."

Emma closed her eyes against the tears (angry, frustrated tears) that were suddenly burning there.

"I'm sorry, Swan," he said, voice cracking. "I've been trying to be a better man for you. I'm going to be a better man for our child. For our son, if it's a boy. I won't let you down."

"Killian," she said, sitting up so she could look him full in the face. "I'm not crying because I think you're going to let me or our son down, I'm crying because _you're such an idiot_."

He stared at her blankly.

"You mentioned naming our child after a hero, and that's what I want to do. I want to name our son after the best man I know."

From his expression Emma knew he still hadn't caught on. She barely resisted rolling her eyes.

_Maybe he really does have a cannonball for a brain._

"I want to name our son after _you_ ," she said emphatically, "I want to name him Killian."

He didn't say anything. He didn't even move. He just continued to gape at her.

_I think I broke him._

"You've forgiven yourself," she continued, "but I think you still have trouble believing that you're a _good man_ , that you deserve good things."

She saw his jaw working, but still he remained silent. Emma wanted to shake him, wanted to make him _see_. She had spent most of her life believing that she was worthless, and everything that ever happened to her only seemed to confirm that fact. Until Henry brought her to Storybrooke.

"If you can't believe in yourself right now, I need you to believe in _me_. Believe that I love you. Believe that I know you're a good man."

Henry, her parents, and even Regina had spent a lot of time trying to convince Emma to believe in herself. But it wasn't until Killian and his genuine, unshakable faith in her that she was finally able to understand, to believe, to _see_.

"Believe that I know you're going to be an amazing father."

That look of absolute wonder spread slowly across his face. Suddenly she was on her back and Killian was on top of her, face buried against her neck, hugging her so tightly she thought her ribs might crack.

"Swan, you're _impossible_ ," he whispered against her skin. "You don't know what this means to me."

Emma wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying.

"I promise you, Emma, I'm going to be a father our son can be proud of."

"I know you will."

_Crying, definitely crying._

They made love again, and this time it was slow, unhurried. Killian's hand roamed over her skin, caressing every inch of her body he could reach as if he was trying to memorize it. Emma watched his face, his gentle smile, his blue eyes, glittering in the light as the sunrise flooded their bedroom with its radiance. They came together, gasping against each other's mouths as they shared a kiss, then lay entwined beneath the comforter. 

"I have one condition," Killian said much later.

"Hm?" Emma asked sleepily, waking from a light doze.

"I want his middle name to be David."

"Not Liam?"

Ian had _said_ "Killian David Jones", but even so, she was surprised that Killian was the one suggesting David.

"I spent my whole life trying to live up to this impossibly perfect image of my brother, and it nearly destroyed me. I don't want our son to suffer the same burden. Your father's not perfect, but he doesn't pretend to be. He's a good man, and I think our son will be very lucky to have him as a role model."

Emma smiled. Her dad was going to be elated.

_Killian David Jones._

_Ian._

Her eyes flew open.

_Crap, he's still all alone at the station._


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters after this are the Killian-finding-out chapters (I PROMISE). I'm hoping to have the next one posted later tonight, and if not, then I'll post it Thursday (tomorrow is the art show day, wooooo!)

"Hey, kid, I hope you like double-chocolate donuts because I -- _what are you doing_?"

Ian, out of his cell, sitting at her desk again, started guiltily.

"Uh..." he stammered.

"Are those all my pencils?"

"No," he said, looking from the pencil in his hand to the thirty or so pencils stuck point-first in the ceiling tiles over his head. "Just most of them."

She stalked closer. Ian had the good sense to vacate her chair so she could sit down. The remains of what had been three brand new packages of pencils lay ripped open and empty on her desk. Emma swept them out of the way to make room for the box of donuts and two hot chocolates she was carrying.

"Any other property damage I should know about?"

"Nothing's _damaged_ ," he said. "If anything, I just sharpened 36 pencils for you, so you're welcome."

"You sharpened them all first?"

"Well, yea. They won't stick if they're not sharpened." Ian said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

_Oh my God, he's done this before._

_I have a feeling there are a lot of parent-teacher conferences and calls home from school in my future._

Her gaze drifted past Ian, to the cell he had apparently escaped from. "How did you get out?"

"Oh. I picked the lock. May I have a donut, please?"

Emma narrowed her eyes, but she couldn't really deny such a polite request, so she slid over the box containing six of Granny's most delicious double-chocolate donuts. Henry and Killian both loved them, and, if he had inherited Killian's sweet tooth, Ian probably did too.

Ian was clearly very familiar with Granny's donuts. He opened his mouth wide and tried to fit as much of the donut in there as possible before taking an actual bite.

_Typical teenage boy._

"How old are you, anyway?" she asked, realizing she had no idea. He looked close to Henry's age.

Emma was grateful that Ian waited until he had swallowed his mouthful of donut before he said smugly, "I just turned thirteen."

"7th grade?" she questioned. Ian nodded, licking chocolate frosting from his fingers and taking another extra large bite.

He was only a little younger than Henry, then.

_Well, that explains the sass._

_Some of the sass._

Henry was currently going through that hormonal-teenager garbage. Usually he was his normal, sweet self. The Henry that made Emma think that _some_ good had come out of her being with Neal. The whole experience had destroyed _her_ , but at least there was Henry. Sometimes, however, he was this unrecognizable, cranky emo kid, and it drove Emma nuts. It was partly because she didn't want to believe that he was growing up, that he was changing. She had missed so much of his childhood, and now his childhood was almost over. It hurt.

Emma glanced at the clock. Henry would be on his way to school soon. She missed him. She hadn't seen him yesterday or Tuesday, and had only spent an hour with him on Monday. Maybe he'd stop by the station after school...

_So you can introduce him to his brother from the future? Yea, right._

_Although, who am I kidding? He'd probably just think it was cool._

Or...

_Or he'll be totally pissed that you're replacing him and go dye his hair black and start a death metal band in Regina's shed._

"Are you happy?" She asked abruptly.

"Huh? With the donut? Yea, it's great, these are my favorite."

"No, I mean..." she hesitated, not wanting to sound _weird_. "Are you happy with your life? Did you have a happy childhood?"

Ian burst out laughing.

" _Mom_ ," he said, and Emma couldn't help noticing that the way Ian said "mom" was different than the way Henry said it. "I have the _best_ life. I mean, dad won't let me get my ear pierced, which sucks, _or_ get a tattoo, and you guys are always kissing and giving each other goo-goo eyes, which is gross...but," he put his donut down, and from the look on his face Emma knew his next words were being pulled from somewhere deep, as deep as a 13-year-old could go. "I know you and dad love me, more than anything. And you've always been there for me. Even when I disappoint you."  

Emma felt on the verge of tears. That was _exactly_ what she wanted: for her and Killian's child ( _son_ ) to know that they loved him, that he had a family and a place in their world.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Ian said suddenly, "Grandpa was here looking for you earlier. "

Emma froze. _Grandpa?_ Then she heard the front door of the station open and David calling her.

"Emma?"

"What did you tell him?" she hissed at Ian urgently, leaning towards him across the desk. She heard David's footsteps drawing nearer.

"I told him I was shadowing you today for a school report I have to do about what I want to be when I grow up," Ian whispered back. "Why were you so late today, anyway?"

Emma ignored him. She straightened up and turned around just as David walked into the office.

"Hi," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Hey," he greeted warmly, and then "I was looking for you this morning." There was a bit of " _where the hell were you_ " in his tone.

"Yea, sorry, I got held up."

 _In bed._ Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ian's disgusted expression.

"Could I talk to you in private for a minute?"

She glanced at Ian ( _you're so dead_ ) before following her dad into his office.

"We have a problem," he said, after she'd closed the office doors. "Zelena's time portal was somehow activated last night."

_Shit._

Emma had completely blanked on the possibility that anyone else might be aware that something out of the ordinary had taken place last night. O _f course_ someone would have noticed the pillar of light from the portal, and of course it would have to be her parents. She barely resisted glancing out of the office at Ian.

She needed to sound like she was engaged with the problem at hand, instead of the problem currently sitting at her desk eating donuts.

"Is it Zelena?"

She was only slightly surprised that the fear in her voice was real.

"We don't know," David said, and Emma heard the attempt at reassurance in his voice. _B_ _ecause he knows that if Zelena comes back, she's probably coming straight for me._

"Your mother and I were out searching the woods all night. We found a set of footprints from the barn leading into the woods, but once we got into the trees it was too dark to follow them very well."

Emma groaned inwardly. Her poor parents.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"It was your date night," he said, slightly uncomfortable. "Your mother and I didn't want to interrupt."

_You mean Mary Margaret said she'd kill you if you interrupted..._

"I was thinking you and I could go back today and try to follow the tracks in the daylight."

"Ok, I'll go grab my coat."

"What about Ian?"

"Oh, he's coming with," she said simply. If she left Ian at the station alone again there'd be nothing but ash and rubble to greet them when they returned.

They spent hours walking around the abandoned farm, searching the barn, the house, the storm cellar, and the surrounding trees. David took the time to explain to Ian the ins and outs of what they were doing and how they related to police procedures as well as the general sort of protecting-Storybrooke-from-villains stuff that he, Emma, and the others did on a daily basis.

Emma had never actually taken the time to think about who would take over at the Sheriff's Department when her and David were too old or too _whatever_ to do it anymore. She wondered if David had ever considered it. Either way, he seemed to think Ian was a prime candidate.

Ian was totally attentive, eagerly soaking up everything David told him, and David, in turn, fed on that enthusiasm, opening up in a way he really only did around close family. As she watched David describe to Ian how the distance between footprints could tell you whether a person was walking or running, she was struck by the thought that this was probably exactly what David and Ian were like together in the future. 

Emma found herself looking forward to telling David that Killian wanted to name their son after him. She wasn't looking forward to the actual telling-David-she-was-pregnant part, however, so maybe Killian could do that, and she could phone in afterwards from across the country to tell her dad they were using David as their son's middle name.

_Yes, that is totally, completely rational._

Eventually, they had broken down every single clue into two categories: those belonging to David and Mary Margaret, and those belonging to whoever had come from the time portal ( _Ian_ ). Currently, they were following the footprints Ian had left in the snow. He had been forced to use magic to alter their path while Emma distracted David with a question about what she should get Neal for Christmas.

"Where are these going to take us?" Emma whispered. 

"August's old trailer," Ian answered.

_Did he have to pick a destination so far away?_

David was more than fifteen feet ahead of them, taking point. He insisted that Emma and Ian hang back in case they encountered any danger and Emma needed to get Ian to safety.

"Are you cold?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks for the jacket."

It wasn't a jacket, exactly, it was a puffy vest that Emma had managed to scrounge from Henry's room that morning (along with a pom-pom hat and matching scarf). Neither seemed Henry's style, which probably explained why she'd never seen him wearing it. They suited Ian, however. Dark blue was definitely his color.

"What's your favorite subject in school?" she asked. She knew she should probably be asking him important questions about Zelena, but out here, in the woods near the barn, she honestly felt like talking about Zelena might summon her here sooner.

_Sooner than whenever it is she's going to show up._

Plus, David might overhear.

At least, that's what she told herself.

"Art," Ian answered immediately. Emma thought of Ian's crayon drawing from her vision. That was one of the things she had missed with Henry that she was looking forward to this time around. She had _none_ of Henry's childhood artwork, not even the iconic handprint in paint.

Her and Killian were going to need a bigger refrigerator, because she planned on hanging up every one of Ian's drawings.

"What about math?"

He made a face. "Math's easy, but it's not _fun_ , like art."

_Easy, huh? Apparently you've got your dad's brains as well as his looks. Lucky kid._

"Who taught you how to pick locks?"

" _You_ did," he said with a grin.

" _I_ did?" she asked, a little too loudly. There was no way. She hadn't even taught Henry how to do it. "Why would I teach you how to pick locks?"

"You caught Uncle Will trying to teach me, but you said he couldn't pick his way out of a paper bag and all he was teaching me was how to be terrible at it, so you showed me the right way."

She didn't even know where to begin. _Uncle Will? As in Will Scarlet?_

"I probably shouldn't have told you that," Ian added thoughtfully.

"Probably not," Emma agreed.

They were going to have to be careful. Even something small could change his timeline so dramatically that, when he returned to the future, he found his home unrecognizable.

They were silent for a few minutes, each focusing on navigating their way through the snow. Ian's jean legs were soaked nearly to the knee. Emma had forgotten to look for a pair of boots for him.

"Can't you use magic to keep your feet warm?" she asked him, keeping an eye on David's back up ahead. "Or at least dry your pants off?"

"No, I don't want to accidentally set fire to them or something."

"What?"

Ian shrugged. "Sometimes I have trouble with using magic for small things. Once I accidentally melted two of Aunt Regina's teacups when all I was trying to do was reheat my and Rowan's hot chocolates."

_Well, I guess I was right about my baby being the problem with my magic._

_Also, Ian and Rowan are friends?_

She guessed it made sense, since Ian and Rowan would be about the same age. She wondered if she was going to have Regina at her door every other day, blaming Ian for getting her daughter into trouble.

"Have you told dad yet?" Ian asked. Emma didn't need him to clarify.

"Not yet. I wanted to tell him together," she said. It seemed appropriate.

Still, Ian looked nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"Sometimes dad talks about the man he used to be, before I was born...I never really understood. Until now. He's different. It's like he's _less_ , or something."

"Do I seem different?"

"Yea, sure," Ian said with a grin. "But you're not, you know, _scary_ like he is."

"You think Killian's scary?"

"You know, the eyeliner, and the face," here he pulled a spot-on Killian glare, "And the hook, and the eyeliner."

Emma laughed. She had never thought of Killian as scary, really. She knew he had the whole scary-pirate thing going for him and that others found him intimidating, but she had never been scared by him.

"We're here," said David, stopping and pointing. Emma could just make out August's trailer amongst the trees. The footprints led right to it.

"Good job, kid," she muttered. Ian looked embarrassed.

_Just like Killian. He's all confidence until you give him a genuine compliment, then he's suddenly bashful._

The search of the trailer turned up nothing. David was the only one who was surprised by that, but Emma and Ian did a good job of pretending they were as well.

"There's one more thing I want to try," David said, finally admitting to himself that there was nothing that qualified as a "clue" inside the trailer.

"What's that?" Emma asked, apprehensively.

"Can you use your magic at the barn to, I don't know, try to _sense_ what happened last night?"

Emma wanted to scream.

First of all, she wasn't even sure if magic worked that way. Secondly, her powers were completely wonky. Third, she was hungry and cold and _pregnant_ and she just wanted to go back to the station and throw pencils into the ceiling with Ian.

But David was her dad, and she would always do everything in her power to help her family, no matter how much she wanted ( _needed_ ) a donut right now.

Ian seemed to sense her feelings as they followed the trail of footprints back to the farm.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. His eyes were a bright, crystal blue in the sunlight.

"My powers are a little _off_ ," she confessed, stomach squirming again at the memory of throwing Ian into a wall on the Jolly Roger. "I don't know if I can do this sensing thing David wants me to do without bringing the whole barn down right on top of us."

Ian smiled at her, and it was a Killian smile. "Don't worry, mom, I'll help you."

And he reached out, grasped her fingers, and gave them a little squeeze. Emma could see his sincerity and good heart, beneath all the mischievous brat stuff. She squeezed back, and then they both hastily stuffed their hands in their pockets as David turned back and waited for them to catch up.

"We'd better hurry," he said, nodding towards the sky. Above them the sky was clear, but in the distance there was a heavy bank of clouds, dark gray and sinister. "We're supposed to be getting another snowstorm tonight. Bigger than the others."

Emma sighed. "If this is December, what are January and February going to be like?"

They continued walking, now clustered together instead of spaced out, so Emma couldn't ask Ian any more burning questions. She pulled out her phone to check the time.

At this rate, they were going to get back to town just in time for dinner with Killian. The dinner at which Emma was going to tell Killian that Ian was their son.

_I hope Marco and Leroy gave him some really, really fantastic news about the bar today, because he's going to need to be in a good mood for this._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates today, hot damn! This is like part one of a three part Killian-finds-out-about-Ian sort of thing, because everyone's been wondering.

Killian wasn't afraid of many things, but right now he was overflowing with fear.

_A son. I'm going to have a son._

Most likely.

_"Most likely" as in definitely, mate. Emma has a gut feeling, and her gut feelings are usually (always) right._

His fear was an insidious fear. It had wormed itself deep inside him long ago, only making rare appearances. It had surfaced briefly, when he'd first realized Emma was pregnant, but he'd managed to shove it back down into its hiding place.

Now, he had accidentally dislodged it, and it floated to the surface.

" _And_ ," he said to Emma, determined to voice his fear, determined to get it out, because there were no secrets between them, not anymore. "And I thought maybe you wouldn't want a son who only had a father like me to look up to."

Killian was afraid he would never be able to be the man he wanted to be. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to be a better father to his son than his own father had been to him

Emma was crying.

"I'm sorry, Swan," he said, and his voice broke as his own eyes filled with tears and his throat began burning. "I've been trying to be a better man for you. I'm going to be a better man for our child. For our son, if it's a boy. I won't let you down."

But he wasn't sure if he _could_. Because no child -- no _son_ , deserved to have Killian as a father.

_I promised Emma a future I can't provide._

"Killian," Emma said dangerously, sitting up. He tears were suddenly dry, and she had that look of stubborn determination on her face. "I'm not crying because I think you're going to let me or our son down, I'm crying because _you're such an idiot_."

He was dumbfounded.

"You mentioned naming our child after a hero, and that's what I want to do. I want to name our son after the best man I know."

Killian could tell that Emma had paused to give him a chance to show he understood, but he didn't, so he remained silent.

"I want to name our son after _you_ ," she said forcefully, "I want to name him Killian."

How...how could she? After everything _Killian Jones_ had done, how could she want their child to bear such a heavy burden? His question stuck in his throat, however.

"You've forgiven yourself," she continued, "but I think you still have trouble believing that you're a _good man_ , that you deserve good things. If you can't believe in yourself right now, I need you to believe in _me_. Believe that I love you. Believe that I know you're a good man."

Her words from the Underworld echoed back to him: _You have to forgive yourself. Thing is, no matter how many times I tell you, or anybody else does, you have to do it yourself._

The problem with Killian was that he _never listened_.

He was trembling.

"Believe that I know you're going to be an amazing father," Emma finished quietly.

_Swan._

_I will be. For you, for our child, I will be a better man._

He hugged her, flipping her onto her back and burying his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin as if this was the last time he'd ever hold her.

"Swan, you're _impossible_ ," he whispered. "You don't know what this means to me."

_It means I can forgive myself._

"I promise you, Emma, I'm going to be a father our son can be proud of."

"I know you will."

When she asked him later what he was going to do that day, he had his answer ready. He had promised Emma a future together, and part of fulfilling that promise was _settling in_. Killian wanted his son to know that his father worked hard, that his father had a place in the world.

Granny had given him the keys to Any Given Sundae, and now it was time to begin turning it into a bar.

He called Marco and Leroy and asked them to meet him at Granny's, where he treated them to lunch before taking them over to Any Given Sundae. They were quick to assess what it would take to turn the building into a bar. Leroy said, on account of how excited the rest of the dwarves would be that they'd have a new drinking hole more appropriate to their tastes, that they could probably get the work done within a month, month-and-a-half tops. Marco agreed that he could have the wood prepped and ready by the time the dwarves needed it.

Killian was surprised at how smoothly it all went. Leroy left whistling a little tune, and Killian almost joined him. He had one more thing to do, however.

Marco was about to follow Leroy out, but Killian held him back a moment.

"I was wondering," he said, and then halted, not sure exactly how to phrase his request. Emma hadn't told Henry or her parents she was pregnant yet, and she probably didn't want the news spread around town before then (or ever). "I was wondering if you remember what Emma's crib looked like. From the Enchanted Forest?"

"Of course." Marco said politely.

"Do you remember it well enough to recreate it?"

"Yes," Marco answered slowly, "Yes I think so."

"Could you do it for me?"

"You want a replica of Emma's crib?"

Killian had to bite back his angry retort. The man was kind and gentle, but really, what exactly was he having trouble wrapping his head around? Why on earth would Killian want a crib, if not to put a baby in? Was it just so unbelievable that Killian Jones was having a child?

"Not exactly," said Killian, barely masking his impatience.  "There will need to be a few changes in the design."

"Oh?"

_Here, let me spell it out for you._

"Emma's crib was built for a girl -- a princess, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming," he said, and paused, making sure Marco was following along so far.

" _This_ crib should be suitable for the son of a princess," he said, because no matter her lack of a kingdom, Emma _was_ a princess, "and a naval captain." He didn't _say_ "pirate", but he knew it was implied, as his reputation was rather well-known.

Killian saw the first light of comprehension beginning to dawn in Marco's eyes. His heart was beating fast. This was the first time he was about to say these next few words out loud to anyone except Emma.

"Emma and I are having a baby. A boy."

_We're having a son and Emma wants to name him Killian._

Their house had been a promise for the future. This crib was an additional promise, a promise that Killian would be the father that their son deserved. It was a promise to give their son the childhood both he and Emma had never had.

"Congratulations!" Marco said warmly, and then he was hugging Killian and clapping him on the back. "A child is truly a blessing."

"Thanks, mate," Killian said awkwardly. Marco stepped back, but he kept his hands on Killian's shoulders, and looked at him the way a father might look at his favorite son.

"Pinocchio and I, we'll have that crib done for you in two weeks."

Then he gave Killian's shoulders a fortifying shake, winked, and made to leave. Killian just stood there, a little overwhelmed. He finally found his words again just as Marco was at the door.

"One more thing," he called. "Can you keep it a secret?"

Walking to the station later, he felt lighter than he had all day. That was probably why when he reached the baby store, a store he had been aware of but previously ignored, he went in instead of passing by.

He took two steps inside before spying a pack of the _tiniest_ socks he had ever seen in his life.

_Fuck._

He turned on his heel and left. He wasn't ready.

Five minutes later he was back in the store.

_If I can ask Marco to build us a baby crib, I can bloody well look at wee baby clothes._

He went to a rack of pajamas, all in various shades of blue. Everything was _so small_. He ran the soft fabric of one between his fingers. It was navy blue, with a pattern of light blue stripes. They were nice colors. Maybe he should run after Marco, tell him navy and light blue were _nice colors_ for the baby crib.

He moved on. The next rack held miniature coats and jackets. Killian laughed when he found a leather one, similar to his own. He'd have to ask Emma about that one first...

A shelf of books in the back caught his eye. He chose one at random and flipped through it. Mary Margaret and David were always going on about how books helped a baby get used to its parents voices. His and Emma's child may not be able to understand the books they read him for a long time yet, but at least he could listen to their voices, _hear_ how much they loved him.

In the end he selected a book called _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_. It had simple, bright pictures, and Killian was rather charmed by the story. On his way to the counter to purchase the book, he snagged the pajamas he had been admiring earlier, and a little matching hat.

_Because babies need to be kept warm, right?_

He was slightly jittery with excitement. This was the first gift he was buying for their baby, the crib not included. He raced to the station, wanting very much to show the teeny pajamas to Emma and see her smile. When Killian got to the station, however, Emma was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the boy, Ian, was sitting at her desk, playing what looked like a card game on the computer. Ian looked over when he heard Killian approaching.

"Here to report a crime?" Ian asked, grinning at Killian wickedly. "Did someone steal all the eyeliner in Storybrooke?"

It seemed a night in the brig had done nothing to dull the boy's sense of humor, but Killian was in too good of a mood to be put off by the boy's cheek. Besides, Emma had informed him that morning that the boy was apparently alone in Storybrooke, and needed their help. Sarcasm wasn't the worst sort of thing a boy could fall back on in times of trouble. Killian should know.

He put the bag he was carrying on Emma's desk and sat down. David's office was empty, and the light was off, so he must have gone home. Where was Emma?

"Is that a book?" The boy turned his head curiously, trying to read the title through the semi-transparent plastic.

"Aye, it is," said Killian, and he didn't know why but he slid the book from the bag, careful not to dislodge the baby clothes, and showed it to the boy. Ian's eyes lit up.

"The Very Hungry Caterpillar! That was one of my favorites. When the caterpillar becomes a butterfly... oh man, gets me _every time_."

Something about the boy's enthusiasm made Killian smile.

"Can I show you the coolest part?"

Killian nodded and handed the book over. The boy took it eagerly and then came over to stand next to Killian's chair. He flipped through the thick, cardboard pages until he came to one that had pictures of food on it. Through each picture was a small, perfectly round hole, just big enough to poke a finger through.

"On Saturday," Killian read, "he ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon. That night he had a stomach ache."

"Well," Killian added, "I'm not surprised."

The boy was looking at him strangely. Then he suddenly shook himself and returned his eyes to the book.

"My dad used to let me poke my finger through each one as he read," Ian said, and wiggled his finger through the picture of the lollipop, to demonstrate.

"Your parents used to read to you, then?"

"Yea," Ian said, eyes still on the book, "every night."

Killian thought he recognized the look the boy had given him earlier: _sadness_.

The boy had mentioned his parents, mentioned friends...why was he alone now? Had they all abandoned him?

Ian handed him the book and then sat back at the desk, looking glum.

All of a sudden, a pencil fell from seemingly nowhere and clattered to the desk in between Killian and the boy. They both stared at it for a second, then Killian looked up.

There were at least thirty pencils stuck point-first in the ceiling tiles.

" _Your_ handiwork, I take it?"

"Yea, what do you think? I was going for a smiley face..."

"I think your aim could use some work."

" _You_ try it then," Ian said, offering him a pencil.

Killian took the pencil, considered the ceiling for a moment, and then with a flick of his wrist flung the pencil upwards. It landed where Killian assumed one of the smiley face's eyes was supposed to be.

"Lucky throw. Bet you can't do it twice."

Ian handed him another pencil.

"Killian Jones never backs down from a challenge, lad."

"You're telling me," the boy huffed.

Emma appeared, stepping from the bathroom. Killian froze guiltily, arm poised to toss another pencil.

"Seriously?" Emma asked in what Killian recognized as her mom voice, "Who's going to take those all down?"

"Oh, I can do that," Ian said, and then waved his hand. Before Killian knew what was happening, pencils were raining from the ceiling.

"Ahhhh," said the boy, shoulders hunched against the pencils pelting his head and back. "That wasn't what I meant to do."

"You have magic?" Killian asked, surprised. Magic was an extremely rare gift, and he had thought Emma, Regina, and the Fairies were the only ones left in Storybrooke with magic.

Ian looked quickly to Emma and then back. "Um. Yes."

_All alone and trying to deal with magical powers...reminds me of someone._

"Let's go eat," Emma said loudly and abruptly.

Killian's thoughts churned. There was something going on here, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He stood and reached over the boy to take Emma's coat from the back of her chair. He was turning it so he could hold it for her while she put it on when he noticed something heavy in the pocket.

"What's this, love?" he asked, pulling something long and thin from her coat. Emma looked suddenly petrified. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ian's eyes bulging in his face.

Killian put the coat down, and, holding the object in his hand, used his hook to peel back the velvet wrapping. Inside was a unicorn horn, a neat black spiral, shimmering faintly.

"Emma," he asked hoarsely, " _what is this_?"

Killian felt something building inside him, a mixture of fear and anger and something else...a desperate hopelessness.

Emma didn't answer.

" _Emma!_ " he demanded, voice rising. His hand was shaking violently, knuckles white.

"There's something I need to tell you," Emma said finally, and for some reason she glanced at Ian.

Killian waited, still holding the unicorn horn out in front of him pointedly, still unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Killian, I'm _ten weeks_ pregnant."

At first he didn't understand. _Ten weeks?_

But then he did the math quickly in his head. Ten weeks ago they were in Camelot. Ten weeks ago Emma was the Dark One.

_Emma was the Dark One when she became pregnant._

Killian got that crumbling feeling inside. There was a thundering in his ears, like ocean waves breaking against a cliff face. A whole part of him slipped away and crashed into those waves. He couldn't breathe. His chest was suddenly tight and painful, and his whole body felt hot and prickly, as if burned by acid.

He pushed past Emma, walking quickly from the station towards and into the bitingly cold air outside and then kept going, not sure where he was headed but he knew he needed to get there _fast_. He heard Emma calling his name but didn't stop.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience. My students' art show totally drained me, and I've had no energy.I really wrestled with this one. Everyone was so hyped to see Killian's reaction to fining out Ian is his son, and here it is...hope I don't let you guys down! :D
> 
> Also, in the first gif here, the little blonde guy with the red flannel shirt is how I imagine 3-year-old Ian: http://blackhawkswags.tumblr.com/post/140415459500/andrew-shaw-blackhawks-babies-at-brents

Emma almost threw up on the car ride back to the station.

 _It's easy_ , Ian had said.

 _You can do it_ , Ian had said.

 _It's just like using a dream catcher_ , Ian had said.

_Only there's no actual dream catcher. And the barn's not a person._

Over an hour of trying to use her magic to extract memories from a very large, very inanimate object had left her feeling weak and nauseas. Perhaps it was her resistance to the dream catcher comparison (as if she ever wanted to see a dream catcher again) that made the task so difficult. Or, maybe it just wasn't possible, no matter Ian's encouraging words.

Although, in the end, she was certain she'd seen _something_. It had just been flashes, but she now had an idea of how Ian had arrived: spat out of Zelena's time portal face-first into the dirt.

Back at the station, David said his goodbyes and left to go home early, frustrated and disappointed after a dead-end day. Emma regretted having to trick and lie to him, but she couldn't risk revealing Ian's secret yet. Not until she told Killian that Ian was their son.

She instructed Ian to sit at her desk and _not touch anything_ while she visited the lady's room. She wasn't sure how long she was in the bathroom while her stomach tried to decide whether or not it was going to vomit, but when she emerged Killian was there. He and Ian were redecorating her ceiling.

"Seriously? Who's going to take those all down?" she asked incredulously. Their identical looks of guilty surprise were so _perfect_ , however, that Emma couldn't find it within herself to be upset.

That is, until Ian made it rain pencils. He was definitely a jump first, ask questions later type. Which, Emma had to admit, she was pretty sure he had inherited (would inherit) from her.

"You have magic?" Killian asked quickly.

Ian's eyes darted to hers before he answered.

"Um. Yes."

Emma could see things beginning to click into place in Killian's head.

_Not yet, not yet, not yet!_

"Let's go eat," she said loudly, watching with relief as Killian was visibly snapped out of his thoughts.

Emma didn't think twice when Killian grabbed her coat, until he asked, "What's this, love?" and her stomach suddenly felt as though it was filled with lead.

_Fuck. I fucked up._

It seemed to Emma as if everything was happening in slow motion. She watched Killian use his hook to unwrap the unicorn horn, watched as his face grew stormy. She would have given anything -- literally, _anything_ \-- for Killian not to have found the unicorn horn in her pocket.

"Emma," Killian asked, voice strained, " _what is this_?"

She had no choice but to tell Killian the truth. About everything.

_I kept a secret from him. It doesn't matter what my reasons were; I did what I said I'd never do again, and now I have to pay the price._

_For the sake of the future I saw, and for the sake of our son standing right there watching all this, I hope Killian can forgive me._

-

Ian stared at the unicorn horn his dad was holding. He felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach.

There were several possible uses for unicorn horns, of course, but only one really made sense here, so the question was, _what the hell was going on?_

Ian looked to his mom, expecting her to provide an answer, some smooth explanation, but she just looked horrified. Ian looked back at his dad, and suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. He'd never seen his dad look so _furious_. He had seen Killian annoyed (when Ian did something stupid), and sort of scared-angry (when Ian did something stupid that got him hurt), but never this seething mixture of rage and terror.

" _Emma_!" Killian said, nearly shouting.

"There's something I need to tell you," Emma said, voice steady despite her obvious unease. Ian saw her hands trembling as she balled them into fists. He braced himself for a storm.

"Killian, I'm ten weeks pregnant."

Ian had no idea what exactly the significance of her statement was, but his dad apparently did. All the color drained from Killian's face. He looked utterly defeated, like a man who'd just lost everything. He lurched into motion, pushing past Emma and stumbling towards the door.

"Killian!" Emma called after him, but he ignored her. And then he was gone.

This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening.

Tears were streaming down Emma's cheeks.

"I'll go get him," Ian said, and raced after his dad. He heard his mom yelling his name, but he ignored her too, and plunged outside.

-

The only thing Killian was aware of was the thundering in his head. Everything around him was a blur of colors. He staggered along as if he was dragging an anchor behind him, legs carrying him to some unknown destination.

_Emma conceived while she was the Dark One. The Darkness might have hurt our baby._

Killian had failed to protect everyone he'd ever loved. He had failed to protect Liam. He had failed to protect Milah. He had failed to protect Baelfire, twice. He had failed to protect Emma from the Darkness, and now...now he had failed to protect _their child_.

Killian had learned to trust Emma's instincts, and her instincts had told her it was better to keep a secret than tell Killian that their baby was in danger.

Because it was _his fault._

_I brought her to that meadow. I pushed past her barriers. I coaxed her open. And then I lost control of myself._

_I did this to her. I did this to our son._

_I let them down._

Despair welled up inside of him. Tears sprang to his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, hot on his wind-chilled skin.

_You can't keep your own family safe. You're worse than your own father._

"Killian!"

A voice pierced his thoughts, drilling through the red fog inside his head.

"Killian! Hey! Killian! Killian Jones!"

The voice was getting closer, and suddenly it was right in his ear.

"KILLIAN!"

A hand latched onto his arm and tugged. Killian's survival instincts kicked in. He whipped around and _pushed_ , sending his assailant sprawling.

Killian froze, the storm in his head suddenly silent. Ian was there, lying on the ground, face scrunched up in pain. Killian had _heard_ the impact, heard how hard the boy's body hit the pavement. He'd bet his remaining hand there was a broken bone in there, somewhere.

_Job well done, mate. You just hurt a child._

Ian got slowly to his feet and stared at his torn, bloody palms in disbelief for a moment before fixing Killian with the most ferocious glare Killian had ever faced, a glare that made Blackbeard look like a kitten.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

_Don't you know? Everything. Everything's wrong with me._

"This isn't you," the boy continued, "why are you acting like this?"

"Go away, boy," he spat. "Go bother someone else." 

"No," the boy answered, eyes flashing, jaw clenching. There was something there, something Killian was missing, something he should be able to _see_ , but couldn't. The feeling was too strong, too confusing. Killian's anger returned in a rush.

"I said, GO AWAY!" he bellowed, taking a threatening step forward. Ian didn't flinch, just continued to stare at him levelly. 

"I'm not going anywhere until you stop acting like an idiot and start acting like the man you really are."

_Who the bloody hell was this boy?_

"And how exactly," Killian snarled, "would you know what sort of man I am?"

"I'll show you how," Ian said with a smirk, and then lunged forward.

Killian, stupefied, could only watch as Ian grabbed the velvet wrapping of the unicorn horn and pulled it from his hand. Killian hadn't even known he was still holding it. As it was falling, his hand shot out reflexively to catch it, and as his fingers grazed the exposed horn, he was plunged into a vision.

He was standing in the small bedroom next to his and Emma's, the one she had said she wanted to make into a nursery. It _was_ a nursery, although Killian couldn't have told you what it looked like, because his eyes were glued to the tiny bundle he held. A baby -- _his son_ \-- was asleep in his arms. Killian stared in wonder, not quite daring to believe what he was seeing. His anger had vanished, replaced by awe and a slowly building excitement.

Little Killian. _His_ little Killian.

He felt a laugh welling up inside of him. His son was _so small_. Killian didn't know babies even came this small. And It was absurd how much _hair_  he had; it probably weighed more than the rest of him, and it was all perfectly golden blonde.

"Just like your mother and grandfather," he chuckled, working one hand loose to brush his fingers gently over his son's hair. It was fuzzy and soft, like the down on a newborn duckling. 

He tucked his hand back beneath his son, and noticed for the first time that he had _two_ of them: two real, flesh-and-blood hands. Disbelievingly, he shifted baby Killian so he could get a proper look. Sure enough, instead of a hook he had his left hand back.

_All the better to hold you with, little love._

He glanced up, desperately hoping to see one thing, one very specific thing: _the crib_. He found it against the wall perpendicular to the window, illuminated by a slanted shaft of bright afternoon sunlight. It was identical to Emma's Enchanted Forest crib except for the colors.

His promise was intact. 

 "You see that crib, lad?" he said softly, "That's my promise to you and your mother. That's my promise to be a good father. Always."

He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to his son's forehead. The boy's hair tickled his nose.

"I love you," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden rush of tears.

_Everything is going to be okay._

The scene changed, and Killian was suddenly standing in the living room with empty arms. Before he could begin panicking, something nudged him in the rear end. He whirled around, and let out a sigh of relief. There was his son, now a toddler, offering Killian the book he'd just poked him with. Killian hastily wiped his eyes and squatted down.

"Hey there, little one," he said, and couldn't help but smile. The boy had big blue eyes, the exact same shade as Killian's own. It was like looking into a mirror.

Except for the hair, which, Killian was pleased to see, was still the same pale blonde as Emma's. It had acquired a waviness, however, like Liam's.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" He eyed the boy's shark-patterned pajamas and sleep-tousled curls. "Or does a wild thing like you not need sleep?"

He gave little Killian's tummy an experimental tickle. He giggled and squirmed, pacifier nearly falling out of his mouth. Killian snatched the boy up, book and all, and carried him to the couch, moving his tickling hand from tummy to armpit to neck and then back, making the boy wriggle and laugh in his arms, this goofy, rolling chortle of pure joy that made Killian himself start laughing.

Killian was a little surprised how natural this all felt. He sensed the boy's implicit trust in him, his absolute sense of safety and security. And his _laugh_. It was infectious. It made Killian feel like a boy himself.

He never wanted this moment to end.

"Okay, lad," Killian said, when their giggles had finally died down. "If I read you a story, will you go to bed?"

The boy nodded, but Killian saw the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

_Cheeky little monkey. I'm going to have to read him ten stories, I know it._

Killian plopped down onto the couch, maneuvering the boy until he was nestled snugly in the crook of one arm. He smiled when he saw the book his son had picked out: _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_.

Killian started reading, the boy a warm, comforting weight against his chest. Several times he glanced down to see if little Killian was still awake. He was, of course, and Killian was pleased to see he was completely engrossed in the book, eyes soaking up the pictures, sucking on his pacifier sedately, one hand fiddling with a button on Killian's vest.

Killian rested his cheek on the boy's hair. He would sit here and read 100 stories, if his son asked it of him.

"On Saturday, he ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone -- " Killian stopped. The boy had stuck his finger through the hole in the picture of the chocolate cake, and was wiggling it. He did the same with the picture of the ice-cream cone, and then looked up at Killian expectantly, waiting for him to continue reading.

_Coincidence?_

Before Killian could react, the scene changed again. He was at the beach, standing calf deep in the sea. He blinked around in surprise, and his eyes caught movement. Pelting towards him across the sand was little Killian, not quite so little anymore (Killian was a poor judge of children's ages, but he would guess the boy was about five years old).

"DAAAAAAAD!"

With a gleeful roar, the boy launched himself into Killian's arms. Killian caught him easily and swung him around, delighted to hear the boy's laughter, that same joyful giggle as before. On impulse, acting on a feeling he knew was _right_ , he took a few steps into deeper water, and then threw the boy in. Little Killian flew through the air, laughing wildly. He plunged into the water a few feet from Killian, but surfaced almost immediately, grinning like it was the best day of his life.

Killian _knew_ this boy was pure light. There was no way anything dark resided in a child so full of happiness.

"Mom! Were you watching? Wasn't that AWESOME?"

Killian turned. Emma was standing on the beach in a sundress, blonde hair practically glowing. Killian's breath caught. She was _beautiful_. She was the most beautiful thing Killian had ever laid eyes on. She was also _very pregnant_.

The boy crashed into the back of Killian's legs, giggling, drawing Killian's eyes back down.

"Dad, when Jackie's born, can I teach her how to swim?"

 _Jackie?_ Did he mean...? His attention snapped back to Emma.

"Of course, kid," she called from the beach, both hands resting on the round swell of her belly. "We'll get her some infant-sized floaties, throw her right in."

Emma flashed Killian a conspiratorial grin.

The scene changed. Killian was back in the nursery, only it was different. Everything was in shades of pink where before it had been blue. The crib was no longer there, replaced by a child-sized bed. There was someone sleeping in the bed, only it wasn't little Killian, it was a little girl. She was snuggled amidst a sea of pink blankets, her long, curly brown hair spread across the pillows.

Killian just stared. _Jackie?_

There was a shout from down the hallway.

"Dad! DAD!"

With one last glance at his daughter, Killian sprinted from the room, following his son's voice. It was coming from the bedroom at the other end of the hall. He ran towards it, heart in his throat.

"Dad!"

Killian burst into the room, and found the boy sitting bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat, blankets tangled and twisted around his legs. He was older again, eight or nine this time. He scrambled out of bed and into Killian's waiting arms. 

"What is it, lad?" he whispered, stroking the boy's hair. It was still the exact same shade of blonde as Emma's, although it had lost its curl.

The boy pulled his head up and fixed Killian with tear-filled eyes. "I had a bad dream," he said.

Killian smiled softly. He was an old hand at nightmares.

"I'm here now," he soothed. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Nothing's going to hurt you while I'm here."

And he meant it. _Nothing_ was going to hurt this boy. He would never, ever again fail to protect his loved ones. 

Killian brushed the boy's bangs sideways, out of his eyes, and froze. On his temple was a scar, a scar that Killian had seen before.

His eyes darted back to his son's. _Like looking into a mirror. Why didn't I notice before?_

His heart started beating so hard and so fast it sounded like a drum pounding in his ears.

"...Ian?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yea, dad?"

Killian dropped the unicorn horn. He heard it clatter to the ground, but his eyes were fixed on Ian. For a moment, Killian was looking at the little boy that had woken up scared from a nightmare. The little boy who had clutched him tightly, seeking comfort, seeking safety.

"Now do you see?"

" _Yes_ ," Killian answered. 

Ian seemed to crumple with relief. Killian pulled him into his arms, hand cradling the back of the boy's head. He rested his cheek against Ian's hair, that ridiculous blonde hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Killian mumbled, unable to hold his tears back. He let them flow freely. He _needed_ Ian to understand, to know that he'd never hurt him. "I'll never let you down again, lad."

Ian's arms tightened around him.

"Dad," he said, voice muffled against Killian's jacket. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, lad," Killian answered softly. _Dad_. He loved the sound of it. He was never going to get tired of hearing it.

"Why is your hair so long?"

Tears still streaming down his cheeks, Killian started laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like 3 million things to get done in the next 2 weeks, but I'll try to update again as soon and as often as possible!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your patience, and thank you again for all the beautiful, encouraging comments! I'm really excited about this chapter, because I finally got to write the meadow scene! I really hope y'all enjoy it!
> 
> P.S. I won't be able to start writing the next chapter until Thurs-Fri, because I have all this teacher-evaluation paperwork garbage to focus on for the next few days, but then my schedule should be pretty much back to normal, and I can go back to the two updates a week thing I was doing before :)

_The meadow, 10 weeks ago_

"Tell me, what do you see?"

They were standing on the edge of a field of magnificent pale pink flowers that stretched out before them as far as the eye could see. It looked too perfect to be real.

"Lots of flowers," she answered breathlessly (a breathlessness that was only due in part to the wild horseback ride they had taken to get here).

"Very good."

Killian led her by the hand into the field. They waded in, careful not to destroy any of the delicate blooms. She clung to him, legs a little wobbly and heart still racing a little too fast. Killian plucked a flower from amidst the tall grasses and presented it to her. Smiling, she wrapped her fingers around Killian's where they gripped the stem. Up close, the flower smelled amazing.

"Now, what _don't_ you see?"

She glanced around cautiously. The field was dotted with trees. Everything was a rich, fresh shade of green that made her think of spring and new life. There was the quiet chirping of birds overhead, and in the distance she could just make out the gurgle of a stream.

And they were alone. For the first time in over a week there was no one in Emma's head except Emma.

"Rumplestiltskin," she said, blinking in surprise. She turned back to Killian, who was watching her expectantly. "He's gone."

"I hoped he might be," he said softly. His eyes, usually a piercing blue, were looking a little greenish in the light filtering through the trees. She could drown in his eyes. "By trusting me with your burden, you've left no room for him in that head of yours."

Emma didn't know how to respond. It was a bit of a shock to her that she'd done it, that she'd let down her walls and _trusted_ , trusted Killian wholly and without fear. But even though part of her felt exposed and vulnerable, she knew it was all right, because this was _Killian_. Killian who, after centuries of believing his heart was broken beyond repair, put his faith in her and opened himself to love again, Killian who had proven time and time again that he'd never stop fighting for them, for her.

Killian, whom she loved.

There were no barriers between them now. Killian was _in_. Realizing that filled her with an overwhelming mix of emotions: excitement, anticipation, and now, more than ever before, she _wanted_ him.

"Well, now that we're alone..." she let the sentence hang. Killian's eyes searched hers, one eyebrow quirking upwards ever so slightly. Emma sensed the fragility of the moment. He was waiting, waiting for her to initiate this. The next step forward was a step _she_ needed to make.

Emma eyed Killian's lips --his _gorgeous_ lips, lips she suddenly wanted to feel on every inch of her skin. She leaned in, Killian following immediately. Their lips met, and her eyelids fluttered shut. Killian let out a deep breath, tension audibly leaving his body. He parted his lips and Emma deepened their kiss, chasing his tongue with hers. His mouth was warm and soft against her own, a contrast to the not-unpleasant prickle of his beard.

The kiss was unhurried, just a slow slide of lips and tongues, the gentle brush of teeth. It felt like kissing him for the first time. Heat flooded her belly, pooled between her legs. Their bodies pressed close. The meadow seemed to disappear around them as her awareness narrowed down to every point of contact between them: lips and tongues, her arms around his shoulders, breasts pressed against his chest, his hand at the small of her back and his hook resting carefully on her hip, the bulge of his hardening cock against her mound.

They undressed each other slowly, peeling away their garments layer by layer, revealing the yearning skin underneath. When they were both naked, they laid down side by side on top of the pile of their discarded clothes, inches apart, arms around each other, legs tangled.

The smell of those pink flowers filled Emma's nostrils. Having sex in a field of flowers, _that_ was definitely something that only happened in fairy tales, to princesses. Once upon a time, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but now...now it felt _right_.

Emma ran one hand up Killian's bare chest, from navel to collarbone, loving the feeling of his chest hair against her palm. More than a few scars crisscrossed his chest. Her fingers traced every one they came across. Each scar had a story, she was certain. One day she'd have to ask him to tell her those stories, but right now she wasn't interested in Captain Hook. Right now it was just her and Killian Jones, and Killian Jones had her _full_ attention.

Always before there had been the need for caution, the need to keep a tight rein on their desires, lest they get carried away. Now, however, there was no reason to be careful: Emma had nothing to be afraid of, because Killian had already broken down all her walls. She didn't feel scared, she just felt exhilarated.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushed against the tip of his cock. Killian's hand convulsed on her thigh.

" _Emma_ ," he purred. The unmasked desire in his voice made her shiver. She suddenly needed him inside her, filling her, but she held herself back. She was determined to take her time, because for the first time she _could_. She wanted to know every inch of him. She trailed her fingers down the shaft of his penis, feeling the silky soft, hot skin, sliding down to gently cup his balls, already gathered tightly at the base, and then back up. She repeated this a few times, watching with pleasure as Killian's face grew flushed and his breathing became rapid.

"Swan, I can't...you need to... _please_ ," Killian finally stammered. She took him fully in hand and he groaned. He kissed her again, and this time there was more urgency in the clash of teeth and tongues. He hitched her leg up so her thigh was resting across his hip, opening her, and then his hand was between her legs. One finger dipped inside her, and she moaned, rolling her hips, needing _more_. A second finger joined the first, and a third, and then his thumb found her clit and started circling.

Emma opened her eyes to find him watching her, gauging her every reaction as he fucked her with his fingers. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, and his fingers began moving faster at the same time her hand did.

"Killian," she whispered against his mouth, feeling that first delicious tingle of impending orgasm, "I'm close."

He seemed to understand exactly what she wanted, because his fingers were gone and the head of his cock was pressing against her opening. He sank into her gradually, holding her gaze steadily as he did so. It seemed to go on forever and Emma loved every moment of it. There was only Killian and the heat of his body pressed against hers and the smell of those glorious flowers and the feeling of him sliding into her.

" _Gods_ , Emma," Killian breathed when he was fully sheathed within her, eyes closing. The feeling of him buried inside her as deep as he could go almost pushed her over the edge, and if Killian had started thrusting it would have been over in a hot second, but he held still and she was able to hang on, able to push back the rushing flood.

Killian opened his eyes again, seemed to gather himself, and then started moving, slowly, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in as far as he could go. Emma clung to him, eyes locked with his, letting the sensations wash over her. She knew that during their previous encounters he had always held himself back, always been restrained, but she knew that, despite the slow pace he was setting, this time was different. This time it was just Emma and Killian and there were no distractions, no fear of getting caught hanging over their heads.

Killian's lips explored her skin, kissing every bit of her he could reach from this position; neck, shoulders, collarbones, breasts. His beard scratched slightly, but every scrape sent a pleasant jolt through her. One of her hands fisted in his hair, the other gripped his back so hard she was pretty sure her nails were leaving marks in his flesh. The pressure built at an agonizingly slow pace, until she didn't think she could stand it anymore. Emma knew what Killian was doing: he was waiting again, waiting for her to tell him she was ready.

She was ready.

" _Killian_ ," she pleaded. He responded, snapping his hips hard and fast against hers, his fingers digging into her thigh, holding her steady. She tightened her legs around him. After only the first few thrusts, shockwaves exploded through Emma. Startled by the intensity of it, she cried out, a scream that left her throat feeling raw. She held tight to Killian, focusing on that physical connection, feeling as if she would leave her body and float away if she didn't.

Killian was saying her name over and over, the words spilling from his lips like a prayer. She was still riding out the last waves of her orgasm when Killian came with a little shout of his own. He captured her lips in a kiss, his body going still, his hand gripping her rear end now, holding them pressed tightly together as he pulsed inside her.

Emma held him close, never wanting to let go. It was 100% OK with her if they stayed in this meadow forever. She felt as if nothing bad could touch her here, not just because of the peacefulness of the meadow, but because she felt blanketed by Killian's love. She felt protected, safe.

"I love you," Emma said. Killian's eyes widened. He was usually the one who had to say that first.

"I love you, too, Emma. I'll always love you."

She didn't need her superpower to know that it was the truth.

"I know," she pressed her forehead against his. His eyes were looking blue again. She imagined waking up every morning to those eyes, and she was surprised by how much she wanted that. It filled her with an aching feeling.

"Emma," Killian looked suddenly concerned, "what's wrong?"

He could read her so well.

"Nothing's wrong," she said, brushing his hair from his eyes, running her fingers down his cheek. "I think...I think everything's going to be okay."

"Of course it will, love," he said with a grin. "Trust me. We're going to get through this."

She nodded and tucked her head under his chin.

He pulled his coat up over them. Emma snuggled closer, inhaling Killian's scent, his warm, pleasant scent. He stroked her hair, and then he started humming. Emma had never heard him sing before, but she had the suspicion he had a nice voice. She imagined him holding a baby -- _their_ baby -- and singing to it.

_Where did that come from?_

Instead of running away from that thought, however, she embraced it.

_One day, maybe. In our future._

Emma smiled to herself.

-

Emma kept replaying the meadow scene in her head. That hadn't been their first time together, but it had been the first time they had opened themselves completely to each other, without hesitation, without restraint.

It had also been the first time she'd allowed herself to imagine a future with Killian, as they lay entwined amongst the flowers afterwards, the grass tickling her bare legs and Killian's beard tickling her forehead.

Little had she known, their future had been taking root inside her.

She had felt so certain of everything in that moment. But that certainty hadn't lasted. Not long after that her entire world had been shattered when Killian had almost died, because of _her_. She had panicked, and made a decision that nearly destroyed them. Killian had told her to trust him, to have faith in him and their love. And she did. In the same meadow where just a few days before she had been imagining their life once the Darkness was out of her, she filled Killian with that same Darkness, to save him, because she was confident he would overcome it, that they could overcome it together.

She didn't regret her decision, although she regretted how much it had hurt him, and how much it had hurt her family. If she had let Killian die, then she'd have another son with a dead father, another son stuck with her and her mess of a life. If she had lost Killian, she was certain her heart would have turned to stone for good, and then what love would have been left for their son? A son who looked exactly like Killian, a son who would have reminded her of her lost love every day.

Although, now that she had met Ian, she thought maybe he would have been able to keep her heart alive, he would have been able to fill her life with light and warmth and love, in spite of everything.

Ian was a miracle. She didn't deserve him.

Emma had watched Ian chase after Killian. He hadn't even hesitated. He'd known what he had to do, and then he did it. Some instinct had told Emma not to follow. She knew what was going to happen: Ian was going to bring Killian back, or die trying. He'd have to tell Killian who he was, and as much as Emma wanted to be there to see Killian's reaction, to support him and help him _see_ , to lend her strength to him, she knew it was a moment between father and son, that she would be an intruder.

She held on to the belief that Ian would bring Killian back. She had faith in Ian, and she had faith in her and Killian's love, no matter the massive fuckup she had just pulled.

The minutes ticked by, until more than an hour had passed. On Emma's lap was a pair of baby pajamas. They were navy and light blue and _tiny_ and they were perfect. Killian had left them behind in a bag on her desk, along with _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_. Fresh tears poured down her face every time she looked at them. Killian was going to be an amazing father, she knew.

Finally, she heard the door to the station open, and then there they were, Ian and Killian, walking side by side into the office. There were snowflakes caught in their hair. Ian was wearing Killian's jacket, because _of course_ he'd run out into the cold without one again. Killian had his arm around Ian's shoulders, and he looked like he didn't want to ever let go. Both of them had red-rimmed eyes. Ian's looked a little puffy.

_Poor kid inherited my crying face._

They stopped when they caught sight of her. She knew her face must look exactly like Ian's. They all stared at each other across the gap, tense, waiting. Ian was the first one to speak.

"Hey, mom," he said, and Emma knew _everything was okay_.

Emma got up from her chair and went to Killian. He swept her up into his arms. Emma clung to him like she'd clung to him in the meadow, as if he was the only thing in the world, as if he was _everything_ , and then Killian was kissing her, a bruising, passionate kiss.

"Uuugh," Ian grumbled, and started to turn away, but Emma grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him into the hug too. She squeezed him, so tight she heard him give a little grunt as the air was pressed from his lungs.

"Geez, at least stop kissing first," he wheezed. "Hey, are those mine?"

Emma was still holding the baby pajamas. She handed them to Ian. His eyes went wide with shock.

" _Fuck,_ I was tiny!"

"Language, lad," Killian said sternly. Both Emma and Ian looked at him in surprise.

_I think that's Killian's first dad face._

Ian was holding the pajamas carefully between just his thumbs and forefingers. Emma caught sight of his palms, which were torn and bloody.

" _What happened_?" she asked, snatching the pajamas back and taking Ian's wrists so she could examine the damage more carefully.

"It's my fault," Killian said, and Emma heard the regret in his voice, saw the pain in his expression.

"It's fine," Ian said quickly. "It was an accident."

Killian looked like he wanted to argue, but Emma, familiar with his self-recrimination, cut him off.

"I can heal it," Emma told him, and waved her hands over Ian's. Soft, white light poured over Ian's wounds, healing them instantly.

"Thanks," Ian said, looking embarrassed. "I would have done it myself, except --"

" _That's not how magic works_ ," Emma and Killian said together.

Ian grinned sheepishly. Emma hugged him again, one hand on the back of his head, holding him tightly against her. Killian's hand was on her back, rubbing gentle circles there.

"I love you, kid," she whispered.

"I love you too, mom."

"What do you say we go home?" Killian said. Emma and Ian broke apart, Emma nodding and wiping away her tears.

For the first time _home_ meant _Emma and Killian and their son_.

"Can we get something to eat first?" Ian said, stomach rumbling loudly.

"You're not the only Ian who's hungry," Emma laughed, rubbing her belly.

"You're not the only _Killian_ who's hungry," Killian groaned, "I'm famished."

Emma snorted. _Three Killians and an Emma. This is going to be interesting._

The three of them left the office, Ian in between her and Killian, who each had an arm around his shoulders, and headed out into the snow together.

-

At home, Ian passed out on the couch in the front room promptly after inhaling two cheeseburgers and a strawberry milkshake. Emma and Killian sat on the loveseat opposite, watching their sleeping son.

"How is that even comfortable?" Killian asked, eyeing Ian with one eyebrow raised. Ian lay on his back with his arms folded across his chest, his head on the armrest, face turned towards the cushions, one foot on the floor, and his other leg along the back of the couch.

"I don't know, but I don't think he's slept since he got here," Emma said, getting up to retrieve a blanket, which she then laid over Ian. She heard him sigh in his sleep.

"No?" Killian asked.

"The cot in his cell was made," she said ,returning to sit next to Killian and snuggling into his side. "Teenage boys _never_ make their beds."

"Hm. _We'll see_."

Emma chuckled. _Good luck. Thirteen years and this kid hasn't been tamed yet._

Killian put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer. They sat in silence for a while, watching Ian, each lost in their own thoughts. The baby pajamas and the book sat on the couch next to her. Emma hadn't been able to let them out of her sight. They were the first gift either of them had bought for their son. They were _special_.

Snow was falling thick and fast outside the windows: the blizzard was upon them. It looked like they might be stuck in the house for a while, which suited Emma just fine.

"I can't believe he's ours," Killian said, after a while, and Emma heard the awe in his voice.

"He looks just like you."

"Except for the hair, and the freckles," he said with a grin, and leaned down to kiss her nose. Emma smiled and wiggled closer.

"He acts a lot like you, too."

Killian made a strangled sound, deep in his throat, and Emma laughed.

_Thaaaaat's right, remember when you said he deserved a night in the brig?_

"He does, actually," Killian finally admitted. "He's exactly how I was, when I was a boy."

"Yea?" she asked, burning with curiosity. His childhood was not something he talked about easily. She wanted to know _everything_ , and not only because she felt like she needed to prepare for raising Ian like a general prepared for war.

" _Exactly_. Only my misbehavior was fueled by anger. And hate. But _Ian_...I _saw_ him, Emma. When I touched the unicorn horn." Emma looked up at him quickly. His voice was filled with some emotion Emma couldn't identify, some mixture of wonder and pride and excitement. "There's nothing but light in our lad, Emma."

"I know," she said. She cupped his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to his. That feeling from the meadow came rushing back, the feeling as if nothing bad could touch her here, in this moment with Killian and their son. Killian wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up," she said firmly, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

And then she told him everything, from the moment she had realized she was pregnant and that their baby had been conceived in the meadow, while she was still the Dark One, to the moment he had found the unicorn horn in her pocket. She told him why she had waited so long to reveal to him the news of her pregnancy, how she had wanted him to settle in and feel _ready_ , how she hadn't wanted to burden him with another worry. She told him she had been afraid to tell him about the possibility of the Darkness affecting their baby, because she knew how hard they had both fought to escape it, how the Darkness had almost destroyed them, and how she feared it might tear them apart again. She explained her decision not to use the unicorn horn on her own, even after Regina had given her the perfect opportunity. She explained how she had discovered Ian was their son, and then the accidental viewing of their child's future when she had fainted.

"I could have told you about Ian right away, right after I found out," she finished, "But I wanted you to know that Killian was the name I chose for our son because _I_ wanted it, not because I felt an obligation to."

Killian had remained silent throughout, his head on her shoulder, face pressed against her neck.

"Thank you," he said, quietly.

That caught her off guard.

"Uh..."

"I know you did what you did to protect me," he lifted his head and fixed her with his blue, blue eyes.

"I should have told you right away, Killian. I wish I had."

"Me too, love. But I understand."

It wasn't enough, Emma didn't feel like it was _enough_.

"Can we re-do our promise?"

"Of course," he chuckled.

"I'll never lie to you again, Killian. I'll never keep a secret from you again. For the sake of our son."

"And our daughter," he added softly.

" _You saw her too_?"

" _Yes_ ," he grinned.

Emma kissed him fiercely. He kissed her back, and she felt the _desire_ behind the kiss.

"I promise, Killian," she said, breaking their kiss. "I promise I'll never stop fighting for our future. I love you."

"I love you too, Emma," he said, breathlessly, and laid his hand on her stomach. "Everything's going to be okay,"

"Of course it will," she smiled, and placed both her hands over his.

Somewhere in there was a tiny heartbeat, and it was a heart filled with light, a heart that was going to bring joy beyond measure into their lives.

"Do you want to go upstairs for a little bit?" he asked, a suggestive smirk on his face.

" _Yes_ , please."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although we're going to start learning more about what Zelena is up to, she won't actually show up in Storybrooke for quite a long time. Once she shows up, Storybrooke will naturally have to go into red-alert, so there won't be any opportunities to do the other domestic, quiet-moment type stuff I want to do. 
> 
> Just for reference, I call the room at the front of the house where Emma's Enchanted Forest nursery stuff was in the Underbrooke house the front room, and the den is this room I imagine they have at the back of the house that has a TV and an Xbox (possibly accessible through the kitchen between the stove and the staircase? Can't tell in the pictures...)

Killian was awoken by a strange sound. He opened his eyes in the semi-darkness, and instinctively sat still, listening. Pirates weren't exactly the most trustworthy of folk, so any captain worth his salt (or any captain who wanted to remain alive, really) learned to sleep lightly. Killian, being captain of a ship as fine as the Jolly Roger, had had more reason than most to do so.

The digital clock on the nightstand said it was 1 o'clock in the morning. He was a little surprised to find himself in bed with Emma curled up beside him, as they hadn't meant to fall asleep. It seemed the events of the past 24 hours had left them exhausted, as well.

Suddenly, he remembered Ian, and for a split second he feared that the whole thing had been a dream, that there was no one asleep on their couch in the front room, that he and Emma were alone in their big house, but then he heard the sound that had woken him again. It was coming from downstairs, and he knew exactly what it was.

_Not a dream, then._

"Emma," he whispered, sitting up. "Emma wake up."

"Wh'is it?" she mumbled sleepily, face half buried in her pillow.

"We fell asleep, love."

"Mmmhmm."

 Killian sat silently, debating whether or not to wake her. He felt guilty. Sleep was one of the only times she ever looked truly peaceful. No frown, no worry lining her face...but then the sound drifted up the stairs again, and Emma's eyes flew open.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows, squinting at the darkness beyond the open door to their bedroom.

"Yes," he answered. "We left Ian downstairs."

"Crap."

They quietly got out of bed, each put on a respectable amount of clothing, and crept downstairs.

Ian was still on the couch, in more or less the same position he had been in since he had fallen asleep some six hours prior, and as Killian had suspected, Ian was the source of the strange noises. He was fidgeting in his sleep, moaning pitifully.

"Noooooo," he muttered, and then, louder, " _No!_ "

Killian was sitting on the edge of the couch next to Ian before he really knew what he was doing.

"Ian," he said, hand on Ian's shoulder, shaking him gently, "Ian, lad, wake up."

Ian woke with a gasp, eyes wide, frantic.

"Dad?" he asked tremulously, a little crease of worry appearing between his eyebrows.

"Aye," Killian answered, trying to keep his voice low and calming. "I'm here."

"...which dad?"

Killian hesitated, then said, "Past dad."

"Oh."

Ian sounded disappointed. Killian felt a sort of helplessness well up inside him. This was his _son_ , he should be able to comfort his son. And yet...

_Dad, but not dad._

Killian did the only thing he knew to do, he stroked Ian's hair, smoothing it away from his forehead how he had done in the vision of the future, how he hoped Ian remembered from when he was a child. Ian closed his eyes again, and his expression relaxed.

"Bad dream," he said finally.

"It's okay. Everything's okay. You're safe."

"Zelena."

"I'm going to protect you."

"I know," Ian sighed, and then he was asleep again.

Killian sat there, watching Ian, looking for signs that he had fallen back into his nightmare, but he was sleeping peacefully now.

"You okay?" Emma asked quietly from behind him.

He nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady if he spoke. He empathized with Ian. Emotionally speaking, the lad had been through a lot in the mere 24 hours he'd been there. Besides whatever had happened in his own time that forced him to chase one of the most wicked villains they'd ever faced into a time portal, he was now trapped in a place that was both achingly familiar and completely strange, populated by people he knew but who didn't know him.

_He must feel like a fish out of water._

So many things made so much more sense now.

_The sarcasm, the defensiveness...the lad's just trying to make sense of things, just trying to survive._

_And I've been more than a little inhospitable._

Killian should have been one of the people Ian felt like he could trust with the truth, right away.

_I've been distracted. I should have seen. I should have known who he was._

"Do you think we should try to move him? We could put him in Henry's room." Emma's voice brought an abrupt end to his thoughts, and he was able to get a hold of himself.

_Don't go down that path, mate. Don't punish yourself, you'll only screw things up more. Focus on the future, focus on how you're going to help Emma keep your son safe._

Killian banished his guilt. He'd made a promise, after all, to Emma, and to their son.

"No, love," he said, reaching over his shoulder for her hand. She slipped her hand into his, and he brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. "Let him sleep. He needs his rest."

"We should get some rest, too," Emma said.

But Killian felt wide awake, and, judging by the look on Emma's face, she wasn't really in the mood for sleep, either. They went to the kitchen. Emma sat at the table while Killian fetched a bottle of rum and two small glasses from the cabinets. He poured a finger in each glass before he caught himself.

_Rum's bad for the baby._

"Sorry, love," he said, smiling ruefully. "I forgot."

"That's okay. Looks like you're going to be drinking for two for a while," she teased. "I'm in more of a milk-and-cookies mood, anyway."

_Milk, on the other hand, is very, very good for the baby._

Emma was about to get up from the table, but he said, "I've got it, love" and brought her a glass of milk, the package of Oreos, two yogurts, and a spoon.

"What's this?" she asked, eyeing the assortment in front of her.

"The milk and cookies are for you, the yogurts are for the baby," he told her, grinning. "Apparently yogurt has something called calcium, which helps growing bones."

"Where'd you learn that?" She sounded pleased, but skeptical.

"I read it in a pamphlet I picked up from the hospital."

After he'd called Emma to tell them their little criminal had done a bunk, he had collected the pamphlets from where he'd dropped them on the floor, and he'd been reading them in every spare moment he could scrounge ever since.

"You've been _reading_?"

"Yes, Swan, I can _read_ ," he said, recognizing her tone.

_Always surprised that Captain Hook does normal things like read and do math and trim his toenails._

"What else did you read?" She asked, popping open one of the yogurts and licking the foil cover clean.

"Well," he said, thinking, trying to remember what the pamphlets had said about _Week 10_ , trying not to imagine Emma's tongue on certain parts of his body, licking _him_ clean. "Little Killian has fingers and toes, now. His bones are hardening -- that's why calcium is important. Oh, and his kidneys are producing urine."

Emma snorted, but she smiled, and it was this smile she got sometimes, this happy but shy smile.

"Little Killian, huh?"

"To distinguish between that one," he pointed to Emma's stomach, "and _that one_ ," then at the couch, at Ian.

He quite liked the idea of calling little Killian "Ian". He'd heard David and Mary Margaret call Emma "Em", on occasion, and he'd liked that it was a nickname only they could use, similar to how "Swan" was a moniker only Killian could use. Plus, "Ian" certainly beat "Killy".

Killian downed one of the glasses of rum. It stung his throat, but it warmed him instantly. He took the other glass in hand, but didn't drink, just rotated his wrist idly, watching the amber liquid swirl inside its container. Emma dipped an Oreo in the yogurt and took an experimental nibble. Killian watched for her reaction, grinning. She seemed to like what she tasted, because she dunked the cookie again and transferred the whole gooey thing into her mouth.

"Wanna try one?" she asked, mouth full.

"No thanks, love, I'm all set," he said, brandishing his glass of rum, trying not to laugh.

Emma ate two more yogurt-covered-Oreos before washing it all down with several large gulps of milk that nearly drained the entire glass. The sight of how satisfied she was warmed him more than the rum did. He wanted her to be happy, he wanted her to enjoy the more pleasant aspects of pregnancy, because he knew there were many uncomfortable ones ahead. It was only physically possible for him to help bear so much of her burden; after a certain point, she was on her own, and the only thing Killian would be able to do would be to stand by her side and offer words of support and comfort.

"I'm glad you're here," Emma said, wiping cookie crumbs from the corner of her mouth.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked quickly, surprised and slightly offended.

"No, that's not -- I just meant..." she trailed off, flustered,  and Killian realized he'd made a mistake, realized she'd been referring to something else.

_That smile, like she's unused to someone caring about her, putting her first._

"Sorry, love," he said softly. "Tell me."

He took her hand, squeezed her fingers. She squeezed back.

"I was all alone, last time," she said, after a while. "I don't think I even once felt happy about being pregnant. I wasn't sure I could be a mother. I wasn't sure I could love--"

"But you _did_ love him, Emma," he interrupted, not willing to let her slip into self-pity, into despair, the way he'd done. "You didn't give Henry away because you didn't love him. You gave him away because, like any mother, you wanted to give him his best chance."

She looked like she'd been waiting a long time for someone to say that. There were tears glistening in her green eyes.

"You're going to give _this_ baby his best chance, too. Only this time you have a home, and you have me."

She was crying, but she was smiling, too.

"Me," he amended, "and Henry, and your parents."

"Killian, I don't know how to raise a kid," and in her voice Killian heard a little of the fear he'd been carrying around inside of him since he'd found out she was pregnant, the fear of _Oh, fuck, I have no idea what I'm doing._

"I don't either," he admitted, grinning. "But he seems to have turned out alright."

Emma nodded, wiping away her tears, eyes on Ian's blonde head, all that was visible of him.

"We're going to do this together, Emma. We're going to love him -- we _already_ love him -- and I think everything will just follow from that. Everything's going to be okay."

After he said it, he knew it was true. Neither Emma nor Killian had grown up with a home and loving parents...but their boy would. Ian would have what they never had, and more.

And Killian...Killian would have what he thought he'd never have: a family of his own. He and Emma and Ian (and Henry, and eventually Jackie) were going to be a family.

_Family._

He held onto that thought. It burned brightly in his mind.

"So," Emma said, sniffling a little, "beside yogurt, what else should I be eating?"

An hour and two more glasses of rum later, Killian was starting to feel sleepy again. He'd been drinking less and less since returning from the Underworld, and now it seemed four glasses was enough to put him under.

_Lightweight._

Emma had finished both yogurts, the milk, and an entire row of Oreos from the package, and now her eyelids were beginning to droop. They sat with their chairs pushed together, his arm around her and her head on his shoulder.

"C'mon, love," he said, standing and helping her up, "Let's go to bed."

Neither of them wanted to leave Ian alone again, so they crammed themselves onto the loveseat and got as comfortable as it was possible for two people to be on one small piece of furniture. Emma covered them with a blanket, and snuggled into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek on top of her head. He was just beginning to drift off to sleep when Emma spoke.

"What if Henry's upset?"

"Hm?"

"What if Henry's mad that I'm having another baby. What if he thinks I'm replacing him?"

Killian wanted to say that she was being ridiculous, but he knew she had a point. Not only was Henry a teenager with all the emotional and hormonal turmoil that went along with being thirteen years old, but he'd recently lost his father, been in love for the first time and then lost that love, survived a harrowing trip to the Underworld, and gone from being the absolute center of both Emma and Regina's lives to sharing the spotlight with Killian, Robin, Roland, and Rowan.

"The lad's been through a lot, lately," he said finally. "He may be upset at first, but he'll come around. He's smart, Emma. And he wants you to be happy. He'll see. He'll understand."

Emma nodded, and he tightened his arms around her.

"We can tell Henry he's going to have a little brother tomorrow," he said, kissing Emma's hair. "And then we can introduce him to Ian."

"He'll probably like that last part," Emma laughed.

Killian could almost hear all the _cools_ and _awesomes_.

"Goodnight, Killian," she sighed, relaxing against him.

"Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well, love."

"Goodnight, guys," Ian said clearly, from across the room.

" _Go back to sleep!_ " Killian and Emma said together.

-

When Emma woke up, the front room was filled with early morning sunshine, and she was alone. She heard voices, and followed them into the kitchen. Ian and Killian were both sitting at the table in their t-shirts and boxers, eating enormous bowls of Lucky Charms.

_How long was I asleep?_

The clock in the kitchen read 10:00. She hadn't slept that late in a while. She felt surprisingly clear-headed.

"Good morning, love," Killian said when he saw her.

"Hey, mom," Ian chimed in brightly. Emma noticed his shirt was not the striped one he'd been wearing, and it was big besides. It took her another moment to realize it was one of Killian's.  She could only assume the boxers were Killian's too.

"Sit down. I'll get you breakfast," Killian said. He stood up and pulled her chair out for her. She paused to kiss him before sitting down. His lips were warm, and it was difficult not to linger there.

"That's okay, I'm good with cereal."

"No cereal for you, Swan, that stuff's garbage," he said, and started bustling around the kitchen.

Ian, who had just put a spoonful of "garbage" into his mouth, made a face like he was offended.

"What's wrong with Lucky Charms?" he asked.

"Too much sugar," Killian replied simply, opening the fridge and sticking his arm inside. "Not good for the baby."

"I _am_ that baby."

Killian just grinned at him and continue to rummage in the refrigerator.

He was adamant about her pregnancy diet, and she was inclined to let him fuss over her. If it were anyone else, she would have been irritated, because she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but this was Killian -- she didn't need her armor with him. Having Killian take care of her didn't mean she was weak, it meant she was _loved_.

She was going to have to catch up to Killian on that reading pregnancy pamphlets thing though, otherwise she really would be completely helpless.

"Where are your clothes?" Emma asked Ian.

"My clothes? Oh. Dad put them in the washer. _And_  he made me take a shower."

Ian's tone suggested he felt showers were a particularly nasty form of torture.

_Typical teenage boy._

She knew that would not be the last time she had that thought.

"To be fair," Killian said over his shoulder, "you needed it."

"Yea, well," Ian spluttered indignantly.

"Well, what?" Killian asked, pausing to raise one eyebrow at Ian expectantly.

Ian said nothing, just glowered and shoved a heaping spoonful of Lucky Charms into his mouth. Killian smirked and turned back to preparing her breakfast. Emma didn't know it was possible to be smug whilst mixing oatmeal, but Killian was certainly proving otherwise.

"I didn't think Killian knew how to use the washing machine," she said, as innocently as possible.

"He didn't. I had to show him."

"Can you teach him to use the coffee maker, too?"

"Ha-bloody-ha," Killian said sarcastically. Emma winked at Ian, and they shared a grin.

Killian set a bowl of hot oatmeal in front of her, piled high with granola, blackberries, and raspberries, and, of course, there was a yogurt and a glass of orange juice on the side.

"I didn't even know we had all this stuff," Emma said, staring. She couldn't remember when the last time she ate a breakfast this healthy was.

"Ian and I walked to the grocery store this morning," Killian admitted. "The berries were his idea. He said the black ones were your favorite."

Emma looked up, surprised, just as she was biting into a blackberry. She honestly didn't think she'd ever had one before, but suddenly she felt as if she'd missing out her whole life: they were _delicious_ , and the raspberries weren't bad, either.

Killian must have read her feelings, because he looked pleased. Ian did, as well. Part of Emma wondered if Ian had any idea he'd just directly influenced the course of the future. Judging by his expression, the poor kid had no clue.

_We're playing a very dangerous game here. Even something small can have enormous repercussions. Ripple effect._

She shoved that thought away.

"What else did I miss?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, you're just in time for a story," Killian said. "Before you arrived Ian and I were talking about his scar. He was about to tell me how he got it."

"We were? I was?" Ian looked startled. The hand not shoveling cereal into his mouth jumped to the jagged line across his temple.

Emma suspected the truth was more along the lines of "We were talking about girls", but she let it slide, because she was _very_ curious about that scar. She suspected it was the direct result of the impulsiveness he had inherited from _both_ his parents.

"So, kid, what happened?"

"I, uh, fell off the roof."

Killian's spoon clattered to the table.

"Fell off the roof of  _what_?" he asked, a little too loudly.

"The house."

Emma gaped, speechless. Killian's face was red and his jaw was clenched tightly. Emma didn't think he was breathing. Ian's answer evidently was not one he had anticipated, and even Emma had to admit that she had not expected it to be _that_ shocking.

"Not the _roof_  roof," Ian amended quickly. "The roof over the porch."

"How old were you? What were you doing up there?  _What the hell, kid_?"

"I was 9, I think. I was trying to prove to Neal that I could jump from the roof to the big tree."

"Did you make it?" she asked sarcastically.

"I was  _really_  close," he said wistfully. "And I would have gotten his holographic Charizard card if I had made it."

There was something not quite _truthful_  about the story. She suspected it was true up to the point where it related to his scar. She wanted to ask how he'd _really_ gotten it, but instead she asked, "How many bones have you broken?" and immediately regretted it.

"Um," he closed his eyes, and Emma distinctly heard him counting under his breath.

" _Ian_ ," Killian said dangerously. Ian's eyes flew open.

 "A few," he answered, looking uncomfortable.

If Emma had thought before that maybe she wasn't prepared for this, now she  _knew_  she wasn't prepared. Killian seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he had picked up his spoon and was now gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

"We should stop talking about this before I decide that you need to spend your entire life locked safely inside the house."

"Aye," Killian growled, and he looked like he had something more to contribute, but there was a buzz from the dryer, and Ian jumped up, nearly knocking his chair over.

"I've got it," he said, looking relieved, and sprinted downstairs.

"How did you sleep?" Killian asked her, voice sounding strained.

"Really good," she said, smiling, trying to lighten his mood.

_It's okay, everything's going to be okay, we're just going to make him wear full hockey gear when he goes outside. And also when he's in the house. All the time, actually._

"Hey, how much of our conversation do you think he heard last night?"

"Based on what I know of the lad so far? All of it."

Suddenly, the front door burst open. Emma and Killian whirled around to see Henry standing there, ankle-deep in the pile of snow that had blown in with him. He was red-faced and breathing heavily, clutching a bunch of papers in his raised fist. Emma could see mountains of snow outside. They'd gotten at least two full feet, probably more.

" _Mom!_ " he said, in an accusatory tone.

"Henry?"

Emma thought she maybe knew what this was about. She recognized the papers in his hand: they were the same as the ones in his storybook.

Henry stomped over, and thrust the papers he was holding under her nose.

" _What is this?_ "

"Um..." she took the papers from him, and froze.

It was _exactly_ what she'd suspected: it was a story from the book, one of the new one's Henry was currently writing with the pen he'd brought back with him from the Underworld. The illustration caught her eyes immediately. It showed Emma and Killian on the Jolly Roger. Killian was kneeling next to her chair, cupping her cheek, and she was crying but she was also smiling.

 _Oh my god, this is from the other night, this is when I told Killian_  --

"Are you and Killian having a baby?"

Her eyes scanned the age feverishly, heart beating painfully fast in her chest. The story stopped right after she had asked Killian if he was okay, and he had responded that he was perfect, everything was  _perfect,_  which meant Henry didn't know about the steamy sex that had taken place right after.

_Or Ian._

"Yea, kid," she said softly, turning away from the papers to look at Henry. "We are. I'm pregnant."

Henry looked stunned, but not angry. His brown eyes searched her face, and she let him see how _content_ the news made her.

Ian reappeared then, wearing his own jeans and striped t-shirt. He froze when he saw Henry, but then his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Henry!" he gushed, clearly unable to contain his excitement.

_Oh God, he looks like he's meeting his celebrity crush._

Henry's eyes darted quickly from Ian to Killian and back again, comprehension slowly dawning on his face.

_Wow, he's putting things together quicker than Killian and I did. Smart kid._

"Henry," Emma said, stepping in. "This is Ian."

"Is he my bro--"

"I'm your brother!" Ian practically shouted, drowning out Henry.

"I don't understand..."

"I'm from the future!"

"Ian used Zelena's old time portal to travel back here warn us that Zelena herself is returning to Storybrooke to collect her daughter," Killian clarified, then added, "And probably destroy all of us in the process."

Henry got that look like he was trying to process too many pieces of information at once. Ian was still beaming, completely star-struck.

"Ian's from 13 years in the future," Emma paused hesitantly, "He's...he's the baby. The baby I'm pregnant with right now."

A huge grin slowly spread across Henry's face.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asked.

Emma really, really didn't. She still wasn't sure how Henry was handling the situation, because they'd just told him Emma was pregnant and his brother from the future had turned up for a visit and the Wicked Witch was about to rain hellfire down upon them, and he was _grinning_.

" _We have to watch Back to the Future!_ "

Emma stared, and then her, Ian, and Henry simultaneously burst into laughter.

"I don't get it." Killian stared around uncomprehendingly, a polite but bewildered smile on his face.

"Marty McFly!" Emma told him, wiping away tears of laughter, " _Marty McFly_!"

Killian just shook his head, still lost.

"I'll run home and get the movie!"

"Don't bother, kid, it's on Netflix."

"Ah!" Killian said triumphantly. "Netflix. Now that's a word I understand. I'll get the popcorn ready."

-

Emma had a moment alone with Henry in the kitchen while Killian and Ian carried two large bowls of popcorn into the den. Ian glanced back, looking for Henry. He caught sight of Emma and Emma's face, and smiled in what she assumed was meant to be an encouraging sort of way, then disappeared into the back room with Killian.

"Henry," she said awkwardly, not really sure where to start but knowing she had to say  _something_.

"It's okay, mom."

Emma blinked.

"I know I've been acting kinda weird lately, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm not mad or anything."

Tears pooled in her eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yea," Henry said with a grin, and Emma thought she could see, in his smile, Killian rubbing off on him a little. "I'm really happy, actually."

"Me too, kid. Me too," she said, and hugged him, wondering when he had gotten so tall. "And don't tell me not to worry about you. I'm your mom, I'm always going to worry."

"I know," he said, hugging her back, and for a moment he wasn't this teenage Henry who she knew sometimes but sometimes didn't, he was just Henry, the Henry who had dragged her from Boston to Storybrooke, the Henry with the kind heart and unending optimism and enthusiasm whom she had fallen in love with, years ago.

_How did I get such a good kid?_

"I like Ian," Henry said. "I wish he could stay. Wait,  _can_  he stay?"

Emma sighed. "I don't think so."

"What's going to happen? When's Zelena going to be here? "

"I don't know," she answered, and she knew Henry could hear the fear in her voice, see it on her face.

_There's a lot more at stake this time._

"Let's...let's enjoy the movie, and we'll talk about the rest later."

"Okay," he said, nodding, and together they went into the den to join Ian and Killian.

-

"We need to tell Regina," Emma said quietly, so only Killian could hear. Henry and Ian were sitting on the floor, backs against the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn between them, eyes glued to the screen.

Killian nodded gravely, and Emma saw the tension gathered in him.

_We're not ready._


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG this chapter took so much longer to write than I expected. It was one of those you start writing and then realize you can't do what you wanted to do until you do these ten other things first. 
> 
> Also, I rewrote the last half of Chapter 20, because it needed some beefing up, so if you haven't read it in the last two days please go reread the last half.

Ian hadn't been able to sleep at the station: every time he'd closed his eyes he'd seen Zelena's face. And so he had stayed awake. But after two cheeseburgers and a milkshake, he couldn't help it: he fell asleep on the couch, and after a while, he started dreaming.

He was standing in the barn. Before him was the time portal. It raged like fire, scorching his face and nearly blinding him with its light. Behind him...

_No, don't look._

But he did. He turned, hoping it wasn't true, hoping somehow it wasn't real, but --

"Ian! Ian, lad, wake up!"

Ian woke with a gasp and would have leapt from the couch and right out of his skin if not for the hand on his shoulder.

"Dad?"

"Aye. I'm here."

It was a familiar scenario for Ian: waking from a nightmare, searching the darkness, finding his dad hovering over him, eyes anxious.

He almost relaxed, except --

"Which dad?"

Ian knew the answer before the words left his dad's lips.

"Past dad."

"Oh."

He had been hoping all of it had been a dream, that he would wake up and it would be Thursday, and the whole thing with Zelena hadn't happened, and the only thing he had to worry about was the math test that afternoon and how he was going to ask Rowan to the Spring Formal.

Something like despair burned in his chest, so strong he felt like it would rise up and choke him.

_I can't do this._

That _thing_ that had happened earlier, between his parents...he had no idea what it was about but it somehow had something to do with him and it felt _heavy_ and this wasn't a place he wanted to be, a place where mom was sad and scared and dad was angry and scared and where Ian was causing them pain.

Then there was a hand stroking his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. His dad -- _dad_ dad -- did this, when Ian had trouble sleeping, or when he was sick or hurt (or sad). He had always done it, for as long as Ian could remember. It felt like being home.

He closed his eyes.

"Bad dream," he said quietly.

"It's okay. Everything's okay. You're safe."

_He's still kinda scary, but I can see real dad in there._

Sleep tugged at him, but one tiny alarm bell went off.

"Zelena."

_I have to warn them! They have no idea what's coming..._

"I'm going to protect you."

And Ian believed him. Killian and Emma Jones had never failed to protect their children.

"I know," he sighed, and unable to stay awake any longer, surrendered to sleep.

As he slept, his parents' voices drifted in and out of his dreams.

"Little Killian has fingers and toes, now..."

_Am I little Killian? I don't think I've ever heard them call me that. Killian is usually only for when I'm in trouble. Killian David Jones, get down from there before you kill yourself!_

"I was all alone, last time...I wasn't sure I could be a mother..."

_Mom was in prison when she was pregnant with Henry._

He had a strange but very short dream that he was in jail because he'd stolen the yellow bug, and his mom was outside his cell, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head sadly, saying she couldn't be his mother anymore.

"...he seems to have turned out alright..."

_Alright? Just alright? My dad would fight you if he heard you say I turned out just "alright". Heh, future dad fighting past dad._

He seemed to recall something like that happening when his parents had their own time-travelling incident...

He fell into a dream again, one where he managed to return home, only to find that his parents had thought him lost forever and had replaced him with a magically-grown clone created using some skin cells left behind in a pair of his dirty underwear, and they didn't want him anymore, so they made him live in the storm cellar at the farm, out of sight.

"What if he thinks I'm replacing him?"

_No no no don't replace me! I'm not lost, I'm coming home!_

Distressed, he managed to wake himself and was about to shout that they didn't need to replace him, he was _right here_ , but then he heard Henry's name.

"...tell Henry he's going to have a little brother tomorrow..."

_Henry._

Henry had to be (he did the math quickly in his head) thirteen here.

_Henry and I are the same age!_

He tried to remember what Henry had looked like when he was a teenager, but he could only picture 27-year-old Henry.

_Screw Zelena. I'm not going anywhere until I see Henry._

"Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well, love."

Ian could hear the absolute _love_ in their voices, and it comforted him the way his dad's hand on his hair had done.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Goodnight, guys."

" _Go back to sleep_ ," they hissed, and he did, grinning.

-

Killian had been awake for an hour before Ian shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Killian put down the pregnancy pamphlets he'd been reading (he'd already read all of them, several times, but he kept returning to them every chance he got, just in case he missed something important).

"Sleep alright, lad?" he asked as Ian flopped into the chair opposite him.

Ian shrugged, not meeting his eyes. His hair was sticking up all over, and the neck of his t-shirt was ringed with sweat.

"Did you have any more bad dreams?"

Another shrug.

_Definitely not a morning person, then. Reminds me of his mother._

"Can I have some coffee?" Ian yawned.

Killian chuckled.

"You can have orange juice," he said.

_You wouldn't like this coffee anyway, lad, it tastes like boiled dirt._

He had finally gotten the hang of using the coffee maker, it was just that sometimes he miscalculated the water-to-coffee ratio.

"Orange juice? Dad, I don't have scurvy; I'm _tired_."

"Orange juice," Killian said firmly. "You need your vitamins."

He hoped he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. The word _vitamins_ felt foreign on his tongue. Nutrition in the Enchanted Forest wasn't so much a science as it was trial-and-error, and Killian was rather new to the finer details. He could only assume that the things necessary for the healthy development of a fetus were also good for a teenage boy.

Ian's eyes fell to the pamphlets on the table.

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm, um, not pregnant."

"Are you certain? Are you aware of the 5 telltale symptoms?" Killian picked up a pamphlet and flipped it open one-handed. "Did you know that the most common way to become pregnant is through--"

"STOP!" Ian shouted, looking horrified. "I'll drink the dang orange juice. Just please stop talking."

"I'm sorry, does the miracle of life not interest you?"

Ian rolled his eyes, and Killian almost laughed at how much of an Emma gesture it was. The boy may _look_ like Killian, but there was plenty of his mother in him.

Ian went to the fridge and rummaged inside.

"Uh, dad," he said, turning around and holding up the empty jug of orange juice. "We're out."

Killian sighed. He didn't see the point in putting an empty container back in the refrigerator. Emma insisted it helped her remember what needed replacing, but so far Killian had seen no evidence that that was true. How had she survived this long?

_Grilled cheeses and onion rings._

Not that Killian was any better, really. He'd spent his entire life either eating out of taverns or eating what was procured and prepared by his crew.

"Apple juice, then."

"Uhhhhh," Ian turned back to the fridge. "Nope."

"Any kind of juice? What about milk?"

"Uh-uh."

"To which?"

"Both." 

_I think Emma drank the last of the milk last night..._

"We've got pop and beer. And BBQ sauce. Ooh, can I have a beer?"

"Not until you're 18, lad."

"18?" Ian asked quickly, eyes lighting up excitedly.

"Wait, no, drinking age is higher in this world, correct? 20? Not until you're 20." He recognized the look on Ian's face, and knew 20 was still too low. "Just -- not until your mother says, ok?"

Ian didn't say anything, just grinned slyly, and Killian felt _dread_.

_He's going to take full advantage of this situation, of me, and every gap in my knowledge._

He felt strangely proud.

_There's a little pirate in the boy, after all._

What had he been wondering, when he was thinking about which traits his child might inherit from him? _Charm, a saucy wit, mischievousness..._

He'd gotten his wish.

"Well," he said, standing up from the table. "It's seems there's only one option left to us."

"You're right, dad," Ian said solemnly. "I'll get the rum."

And then Ian snapped his fingers, and a half-empty bottle of rum appeared in one of his hands.

Killian stared.

"Do that again," he said, not quite believing what he was seeing. He'd seen the boy do the trick with the pencils, but the execution had been decidedly poor. Conjuring, however, required skill and a lot of practice (which he knew from the time when Emma had been learning to do it).

Ian gestured, and in his other hand was Killian's flask.

Conjuring also required that the person doing the conjuring knew where the item they wanted was. Killian's eyes narrowed.

"What?" Ian smirked, reading his expression. "You don't think I know where you keep your rum?"

Killian stalked over.

_The lad has too much pirate in him. Or he's watched Pirates of the Caribbean too many times. Or both._

He snatched the bottle and flask from Ian's hands, and stuffed them into the highest cabinet in the kitchen-- not that it mattered when the boy had magic and knew how to use it.

"I'm actually surprised you still keep all that stuff in the same place..."

"I _meant_ ," Killian said, ignoring the boy's comments, "that we have to go get groceries."

"Oh, yea, I guess that makes sense too."

Ten minutes later, after Killian had made sure Emma was sleeping comfortably on the couch and Ian was bundled up in hat and scarf and gloves and coat (because the next time he froze it would probably be permanent), they were heading out the front door

"Aren't you forgetting the car keys?"

"Uh." Killian felt caught off guard.

_Bloody hell._

"Don't you know how to drive yet?" Ian asked, brow furrowed.

The tone of his voice interested Killian.

"So I _do_ learn how to drive, then? In the future?"

Ian just continued to stare.

Killian sighed. "David -- your grandfather -- is teaching me, but I haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet."

Ian looked, if possible, more confused. "Why wouldn't you just ask mom to teach you?"

"Well," Killian began, struggling to explain, "it was supposed to be a surprise."

"How would that be a good surprise?"

Killian was at a loss for words, so he just shooed Ian through the door and said, with only partially-false enthusiasm, "Enough about me. Tell me about you."

Ian hesitated in the doorway. "Are you sure I can? Are you sure it's okay?"

"No, I'm not," said Killian softly, looking Ian in the eyes. "But you're my son, lad, and I want to know everything."

Ian's eyes searched his, blue eyes bright in the brilliant sunshine. It was still strange to Killian, how much Ian looked like him, and yet it was also thrilling, and not just because of the fondness Killian had (exaggerated, at times, truth be known) for his own appearance.

He saw his future in Ian's eyes, he saw his second chance, and he saw proof of his and Emma's love. His chest felt as if it would burst from happiness every time he looked at Ian.

Ian seemed to decide that if Killian thought it was okay, then it must be okay, and he gave Killian a little smile -- not a cocky smile, a genuine smile, and Killian saw himself in that smile, but he also saw Emma, too. He smiled back.

"Well," said Ian, "for starters -- _holy shit_!"

They had finally made it outside onto the porch, and found themselves suddenly surrounded by mountains of snow. In all his days travelling the realms, Killian had never seen so much of it in one place.

He stared around in shock for a few moments, and then realized something, with dismay.

"I don't think we're going to be able to go to the grocery store, lad."

"Huh? Oh. Well, as long as you promise not to get angry again, I can use magic to clear us a path."

"That sounds rather difficult," Killian said, a little uncertain. The lad was only 13, after all.

_And I wasn't angry, lad. I could never be angry with you for having magic, and using it. It's a part of you, just like it's a part of your mother. You have no idea how happy I am that you've embraced it._

But he didn't say it, it didn't seem like the proper moment.

"It _is_ difficult," agreed Ian. "Which is exactly why I _can_ do it."

"Come again?"

"My magic's kind of... _weird_ ," Ian explained. "I can do a lot of the more advanced stuff, but things that should be easy, well..."

"The pencils," Killian supplied.

Ian shrugged. "Aunt Regina says it's because I have terrible control. I can't regulate the amount of magic I use, so I just, uh, _overdo_ the small things."

"Regina's teaching you?" Killian asked, a little surprised. "Why wouldn't you just ask _mom_ to teach you?"

Ian opened his mouth, then closed it again and just glared. Killian laughed

"Just kidding, lad. Now," he said, gesturing at the snow. "Show me."

Killian and Ian walked side-by-side down the sidewalk, the snow ahead of them clearing from their path as if they were preceded by invisible men with shovels. Killian was beyond impressed, and told Ian as much. Ian reacted to the compliment with the same shy but pleased smile that Emma always did when Killian praised her magic skills.

As they walked, Killian asked Ian questions. He found out that the boy still liked to read -- and draw, apparently, which was a pleasant shock to Killian. He was a poor hand at it himself, but he had always admired the skill in others who possessed it, especially Milah. In her drawings he had been able to see how she saw things, how she experienced the world. He looked forward to being able to do the same with Ian, through his drawings. Killian also learned that Ian played a sport called "hockey", which he _loved_ but he said it was sort of weird because there were only enough kids his age in Storybrooke to make two teams, which meant those teams could only ever play each other.

Ian also told Killian that the best friend/cousin that he'd mentioned in the hospital was actually his "uncle" Neal, and the other best friend, the one Killian had suspected the boy had had a crush on, turned out to be Rowan, which was going to be very interesting, as he and Regina barely got on as it was, and he couldn't imagine how Killian having a cheeky son with a crush on her daughter was going to improve their relationship.

Killian's favorite bit of information was that Ian wanted to be the Sheriff when he grew up.

"Just like your mother," Killian said proudly.

"Yep," Ian said, grinning. "She's _awesome_. I mean, grandpa's cool too, but mom's...mom's _badass_."

Killian laughed.

_Badass. I'm going to have to remember that one for later._

The fresh air seemed to have reinvigorated Ian. He bounced around the grocery store, fetching this and that and tossing everything into the cart Killian pushed. Killian scrutinized each item.

"What are those?"

"Pop Tarts, dad," Ian said. "Mom likes them."

"How much sugar is in them?"

He had read that too much sugar was bad for the baby.

"I don't know, a lot? I'm a kid, I don't pay attention to that sort of thing."

Killian took the box from Ian and turned it so he could read the nutrition information. 16g of sugar. What did the "g" stand for? Was 16 a lot? It seemed like a high number...

"No," he decided. "Put them back, lad."

Ian rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

"And while you're over there, can you grab the -- "

"Lucky Charms, yea yea, I know."

Ian returned less than a minute later, carrying the requested item. "You do know there's a lot of sugar in here too, right?"

"Yes, but those are for _us_ , not your mother," Killian said, and winked.

Ian grinned.

"Oh, speaking of mom, did you get blackberries? She really likes those."

They made their purchases and left. Killian wanted to carry the groceries himself but Ian insisted on helping, so Killian selected the two lightest bags and handed them over.

Ian seemed satisfied. He looked around happily at the snow as they walked.

"I bet the Jolly Roger looks awesome right now, with all the snow on it!" he said, with more than a little longing in his voice.

"Shall we go see?"

"Really?" Ian asked excitedly, and Killian saw the little boy in him, the one that had roared with glee as he was launched from Killian's arms into the ocean. Ian led the way to Storybrooke Harbor, and Killian, grinning at the lad's enthusiasm, had to walk quickly to keep up.

When they reached the docks, Killian saw that Ian was right: the Jolly Roger _did_ look beautiful with all the snow gleaming upon its rigging, and the crystal clear blue sky behind.

"Pretty as a picture," Killian breathed. For a moment he yearned to be on her decks, sailing the open water, the wind in his hair and the strong smell of salt all around. He wondered if Ian liked the sea, or if Killian had taught him how to sail.

He glanced down and had his answer. Ian had that infatuated expression that Killian recognized, because he wore it himself, whenever he saw the sea or the Jolly Roger. Killian suddenly couldn't wait to get his boy on the Jolly Roger. Maybe they'd have time, before Ian went home...

They continued to stare at the boats and the sea, until, after a while, Killian noticed that Ian was shivering.

"C'mon, lad," he said, taking the grocery bags from Ian so the boy could warm his hands in his pockets. "Let's go home."

-

Due to the manner in which Emma, Henry, and Ian had laughed, Killian had expected _Back to the Future_ to be some sort of comedy, but he couldn't find anything amusing about the movie. The scenario hit too close to home. While Ian and Henry giggled from their seats on the floor, mouths full of popcorn, Killian's mood grew darker with each passing moment, until all he could think about was how much danger his boy was in.

_Emma and I were Marty McFly once, and we almost erased her from existence. Now our son is Marty McFly._

It didn't matter that he and Emma knew Ian's identity, or that Emma was already pregnant with Ian...

_Even the smallest of changes could have catastrophic consequences. If events don't proceed as they are meant to, it could do untold damage to all of us, but most of all to Ian. He could return to a future that's unrecognizable._

_The boy could lose his home, the way Emma and I both lost our homes, as children._

His eyes fell to Ian. Killian had always known the love for one's child was singular; he'd understood it in an abstract sort of way, understood the concept, understood how it motivated people...but he'd never _felt_ it, not like this.

He'd only known his son for a few short hours, and he already knew he couldn't live without him, already loved the boy more than he'd loved anything in his entire life, next to Emma.

He thought of the glimpses of young Ian he'd seen in his vision of the future, and of the Ian sitting in front of him, and the thought of that child not existing, or being somehow different than exactly who he was -- _gods, he couldn't even imagine_.

The thought made his heart feel as if it was ripping in two.

The only way to protect Ian was to make sure he got back home, as soon as possible.

He glanced at Emma, wondering if the movie was weighing as heavily upon her as on him, and from her somber expression knew that it was.

"We need to tell Regina," Emma whispered, so quietly Killian almost didn't hear.

He couldn't agree more. Besides being the only one who could provide the sort of assistance Killian and Emma needed, Regina also had a child to protect, and needed to know that that child was in danger.

Emma took her phone from her pocket and discreetly texted Regina.

"You'd better text your parents, too, love," he murmured, keeping his eyes on the boys, watching for signs that they were listening.

Emma flashed him a look, and Killian understood. They hadn't discussed how they were going to break the news to David and Mary Margaret. It was a delicate situation. He and Emma weren't married, after all, and the pregnancy clearly wasn't planned. Not to mention Killian's relationship with Emma's parents had always been a little _rocky_ , especially with David.

_Perhaps Emma could tell her father, and then, once he's calmed down, whether that be in minutes or in months, I can show my face again._

_Or perhaps we could do this another time._

Killian was about to tell Emma to forget it, it could wait, they weren't ready (he wasn't ready) but she was already sending the text.

Killian stared hard at the television screen, not seeing the movie at all, just imagining all the things he'd rather do than tell Emma's father that he had gotten Emma pregnant: _walk the plank, be eaten by sharks, duel Blackbeard naked and armed with only my hook, stick my hook in an electrical socket, lose my other hand and have two hooks, have another driving lesson, have Hades beat the handsome out of me permanently..._

The list went on and on.

Emma's hand found his fist where it rested, tightly clenched, on his knee. He relaxed his grip immediately, and her fingers worked their way in between his. She smiled at him, a smile that said " _everything's going to be okay_ ". He clung to her hand, needing her strength but also needing her to know he was there to lend her his, if she needed it.

_This is your area, love.  I'm following your lead, but I'm right behind you, should you stumble._

-

Ian hadn't expected the movie to make him feel so terrible. He laughed along with Henry, but all the while that feeling of despair burned in his chest.

_If I'm Marty McFly, there's got to be a Doc Brown, someone who's going to get me back to the future._

Killian had no clue about magic, and while Emma was powerful, she was still an amateur here ( _and_ her powers were all funked up because of being pregnant with Ian). They needed someone with both strength and experience in magic, someone who could analyze the situation with a cool head, someone who wasn't emotionally invested in Ian's safety...

As soon as the movie was over and Henry left the den to visit the bathroom, Ian turned to his parents.

"We have to tell Regina," he said.

"Already on it," Emma said.

"Oh," Ian's eyebrows raised in surprise. "When?"

"Now," said Killian.

"Go get your coat, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PURELY FOR FUN: I saw this video and immediately thought of Henry and Ian. I imagine 7-year-old Ian and 20-year-old Henry going on a road trip together one summer, just to Boston for a baseball game or something for some brotherly bonding time, because Henry's in college and when he's away he misses his younger brother A LOT. Emma, worried because Ian's only 7 and Henry's only 20, texts them like, "Heyyyy how's everything tell me you're both still alive" and they send her this video: https://www.facebook.com/TheSuperCole/videos/504518459732520/?fref=nf


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I haven't given Henry the attention he deserves yet, but I promise it's coming. Also, for reference, I think Jared Gilmore was 13 in real life during Season 3b, so I'm imagining Henry more in the 4a range than season 5 (because he's like 15-16 now), and Ian a little younger than that.
> 
> Thank you again for all the comments! They give me life. Whenever I'm struggling with a chapter I read them and think "IT'S OK YOU'RE OK YOU CAN DO THIS".

"I don't get it. I thought we were coming here to talk to Aunt Regina."

"We are," Emma said. "After we talk to your grandma and grandpa."

Her, Killian, Ian and Henry were at the Sheriff's station, waiting for David and Mary Margaret to arrive. Henry was caught up on the situation, and now he and Ian were pouring over Henry's story book (with the new pages Henry had written safely tucked into the back), looking for any clue to help them face Zelena (and hopefully defeat her for good this time). 

Killian was keeping watch at the front door. Emma wanted as much forewarning as possible, just in case she changed her mind about telling her parents she was pregnant and needed to make a quick exit through the window or via a hastily dug tunnel.

She was pacing the office, trying to calm the butterflies tornado-ing in her stomach. She wasn't sure she knew how to tell her parents, and she guessed that was mostly because she was just afraid to see disappointment in their eyes, to see them thinking that she had accidentally gotten pregnant when she was with Neal and now she had accidentally gotten pregnant with Killian, that she was selfish and irresponsible.

Emma hoped they would be able to look past the fact that the pregnancy wasn't planned, and see that her and Killian couldn't be happier, that they were _ready_ , that this baby was bringing them closer, making them a family.

In spite of her initial feelings of _it's not the right time_ , Emma could no longer imagine a scenario in which she wasn't 10 weeks pregnant with her and Killian's son. Ian was meant to be in their lives. He was the light at the end of the tunnel (the tunnel being all the crap they'd been through the past year: Gold and the Trio of Terror, the Darkness and King Arthur, the Underworld). Somehow, Ian gave all their struggles purpose, as if they had been fighting to make a place for him, fighting to create a place where their love could flourish and their children could grow up safe and happy.

_Ok, Emma, you sound like a frickin' Hallmark card. Get it together._

She realized Ian had asked her something, and she'd been so absorbed in her own worrying that she hadn't heard him.

"What?" she asked dumbly, and Ian rolled his eyes.

"I _said_ , isn't it more important to tell Regina about Zelena?"

She could tell Ian was anxious, and felt guilty for delaying their meeting with Regina, but if she had to have a serious conversation with Regina about how Regina's deranged half-sister was about to show up hell-bent on revenge while thinking about how, afterwards, she had to tell her parents that she was pregnant she was going to throw up.

"It _is_ important, kid. I just wanted to get telling your grandparents about you out of the way, first."

_That didn't come out right._

Henry threw her a particularly teenage-boy sort of look that said " _Great_ job, mom". Ian's brow furrowed, and she saw suspicion in his eyes. He had the same look Killian got whenever he was trying to see through her, see to the truths she couldn't say out loud, couldn't admit to herself.

"You're going to tell them who I am."

"Yes," Emma answered, even though she knew it hadn't been a question.

"Are you going to tell them you're pregnant, too?"

_Kid's perceptive._

"Also yes."

"Why do you look so nervous? Won't grandma and grandpa be happy?"

"It's complicated," Emma said reluctantly.

She suddenly regretted including Henry and Ian. They should have dropped the boys off at Granny's and brought them in only after the storm (Tropical Storm David) had blown over. Emma knew that Ian, for all his posturing, was in a near constant state of worry, and seeing his mom fretting like a teenager about to tell her parents she's made a huge mistake and _please, please please don't kill Hook_ probably wasn't helping any.

_How do I explain to him that he wasn't planned but he's not a mistake? That he's definitely a surprise, but a surprise sort of like winning the lottery even though you didn't buy a lotto ticket._

Now wasn't the time for that conversation, because Killian needed to be here for that too, and they needed to be somewhere private, but she didn't know how to stop it, didn't know how to prevent Ian putting the pieces together. Henry, who already _had_ the whole picture and knew the reason for Emma's uneasiness, was watching their conversation, eyes bouncing back and forth between them, waiting, waiting for the realization to hit Ian...

"Is it because you and dad aren't married yet?"

Emma wanted to say yes and just leave it safely at that, just tuck away the knowledge that her and Killian apparently got married in the future (and when was that going to happen and _how_ ), but Ian was too quick for her.

"Wait -- oh my God, was I an _accident_?"

Ian looked stunned and dismayed. Henry was looking at him with sympathy.

" _Ian_ \-- " she started, but Killian's voice interrupted.

"They're here!" he called. Emma heard his footsteps approaching, and then he appeared at the entrance to the office, stopping short when he saw their faces.

"Is everyth -- "

"Killian!" Mary Margaret said, nearly bumping into him, as he was standing immobile in the doorway.

"My apologies," he said quickly, moving out of the way, throwing curious, concerned glances at Emma and the boys.

"Any good news about the bar?"

"Only that there _will_ be one, eventually," he said with a smile. "Marco, Leroy and the dwarves are getting started with the renovations on Monday."

"Oh, Killian, that's fantastic! I can't wait!" Mary Margaret said, and Emma could see how touched Killian was by her enthusiasm. The loss of Liam (twice) had left a gaping hole in him, a hole where family should be, but Emma knew that that space was slowly being filled by her and Henry and David and Mary Margaret, and now, their son. She thought of Killian from her vision of the future, the way he had laughed, the way he had smiled, and she knew _that_ was a Killian who was _whole_ , a Killian strengthened, lifted up, by the love of his family.

Mary Margaret turned to greet Emma, and was surprised. "Oh! Henry's here too! And who's this?"

"Ian, hey!" David had joined them.

Ian waved, a rather fixed-looking smile on his face, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Emma wished she could stop time, stop _everything_ and explain it all to him, before whatever terrible thoughts he was having hurt him too deeply. Killian was trying to read their expressions, trying to divine the situations from the looks on their faces. Emma wondered if it would be possible to ask her parents to leave and come back in fifteen minutes...

"Is this the Ian you were telling me about?" Mary Margaret asked politely.

"Yep," said David, smiling fondly at Ian. "That's the future Sheriff of Storybrooke."

Killian beamed, his chest swelling with pride.

_His son just got the David Seal of Approval. That's a big deal for Killian._

Henry bumped Ian's shoulder with his own. Emma saw a small crack appear in Ian's dismal expression under the heat of all their combined smiles.

"So, what's this all about?" Mary Margaret asked slowly, probably noting the oddity of the entire situation: everyone's tense expressions, the absence of warm hugs all around, the presence of Ian, who was, for the moment, a stranger.

_Here it goes._

Killian seemed to sense that the time had come, because he came over to stand beside her.

"Mom, dad," Emma said, "we have something to tell you."

She took Killian's hand then, threading her fingers through his and squeezing hard. She glanced at him, and saw the love in his eyes, in his gentle, soft smile. He nodded minutely, and Emma heard the unspoken "Go on, Swan."

_He's so happy._

Suddenly, she realized she wasn't nervous; she was _excited_.

_I can't believe I ever thought this wasn't the right time._

Ian deserved to know that, even though he hadn't been planned, he was the best thing that had ever happened (was about to happen) to Emma and Killian. She looked at him over her shoulder, a huge smile on her face.

_See this, kid? This is because of you._

Ian seemed to understand, and Henry too, because the two of them returned her grin.

_Now I'm going to have to start wondering how I managed to get two amazing sons._

She turned back to her parents, and took a deep breath. Killian gave her hand an extra squeeze.

"I'm pregnant," she said. "Killian and I are going to have a baby."

"Emma!" Mary Margaret gushed, face lighting up, but Emma barely heard her as she was drowned out by a bellow from David.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" he asked, rounding on Killian. One of his hands jerked reflexively towards his belt, as if he was reaching for the sword he no longer carried. Killian's mouth fell open, but all that came out was a hoarse grunt.

" _Sex_ , grandpa," Ian drawled from behind them. "They had sex and now they're having me."

"Sex? Really, kid?" Emma asked, exasperated, at the same time David said, " _Grandpa_?"

 Mary Margaret gasped, eyes wide, her mouth a small round "o" of surprise.

"David," she said urgently, grasping her husband's arm with both hands and giving him a little shake. " _David!_ He looks just like Killian."

Ian smirked, his likeness to Killian increasing tenfold. David and Mary Margaret stared, Mary Margaret with delight, David with incredulity.

"Mom and dad, I'd like you to meet your future grandson, Ian," Emma said, trying to reassert some dignity into the situation.

Ian stepped up next to her, and she put her arm around his shoulders. He leaned into her a little, and Emma knew he had forgiven her. Killian clapped Henry on the shoulder, and the two shared a smile before Killian's eyes flitted cautiously back to David's face. Emma suspected Killian wanted to keep Henry close in case he had to use the boy as a shield against David's wrath.

"Nice to meet you, Ian," Mary Margaret said warmly, and Emma could tell it was a struggle for her not to barrel across the space between them, vault over the intervening desks, and hug him. " _Ian_. I like it, Emma."

" _Actually_ , his real name is Killian," said Killian, a little sheepishly, but a little smugly, too. "Emma wanted to name him after me."

"Killian _David_ ," Emma added, seeing David still struggling to come to terms with the news. Emma had expected his reaction. She may be 31, but she was still her dad's _little girl_ , and right now all he was seeing was proof that his precious daughter had had sex with the man he wasn't sure he thought was good enough for her.

"David?" he asked, startled, and then his expression softened as it sunk in.

_Gotcha._

"It was Killian's idea," she said pointedly. The twin spotlights of David and Mary Margaret's attention was turned from Ian to Killian.

Mary Margaret looked like she was about to cry from happiness.

"You named your son after me?" David asked throatily.

"Aye, mate," answered Killian, face reddening. "I wanted -- I _want_ my son to know he has a grandfather he can look up to."

"And a father," David said firmly, drawing himself up, and Emma knew she was looking at _King_ David. "I think Killian's a good choice for his first name. It's the perfect choice, actually."

_And now Killian gets the David Seal of Approval. The Royal David Seal of Approval._

She knew, in Killian's eyes, there was no higher honor.

"Your father's a good man," David said, looking at Ian squarely.

"I know," Ian replied, and grinned.

"Wait," Mary Margaret said suddenly. "How are you here? Emma, how is he here?"

"The time portal!" David answered for Ian, clapping one hand to his forehead. "That was _you_?"

Ian nodded.

"Thank goodness." Mary Margaret sounded relieved.

"Yeaaaa," Ian smiled apologetically. "Sorry we had to trick you, grandpa."

David just shrugged and smiled, all forgiven.

"Oh, honey, don't worry. We thought it was Zelena."

"Well..." Ian trailed off awkwardly, looking to Emma. David and Mary Margaret were immediately tense.

_Foolish to believe that anything nice and simple could ever happen around here, for a change._

"That's also why we called you," Emma said. "Zelena's the reason Ian is here. She's coming back to Storybrooke."

"From the _future_?" Mary Margaret asked, with alarm. David's arms were around her in an instant.

Emma, Ian, Henry, and Killian all nodded.

Emma understood her parents' fear. Zelena was more than a little unhinged, as it was; what had 13 years of forced separation from her daughter done to her mind?

_Not to mention that they were also once special victims of Zelena's._

"Don't you think we should tell Regina?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Yes. Which is why I already called her. She'll be here soon."

-

It was late afternoon when Regina arrived at the station. She stood in the doorway, taking in the scene of all of them crowded into the small office, some standing, some in chairs, all clearly agitated, and then her eyes found Ian, the odd man out.

"Who's this?" she asked, immediately.

Killian looked to Emma, expecting her to take the lead on this one, as they had discussed (because all Killian could think of was how his boy had a crush on Regina's daughter and how much she was going to _hate_ it and how she would probably take her anger out on Killian), but they were all surprised when Henry spoke first.

"Mom, this is my little brother," Henry said, and Killian heard the pride and excitement in his voice.

Liam had never sounded like that.

_He loved me, certainly, but I was always an embarrassment, a burden._

" _Younger_ brother," Ian corrected, and Killian recognized the way Ian looked at Henry, as it was the same way Killian had looked at Liam, with admiration and adoration.

There was something missing, however, something present in Killian that wasn't present in his son, and Killian was grateful for it: there was no self-loathing in Ian's expression, no despondency. There was only love in Ian's eyes. He looked up to Henry, but he wasn't trying to _measure up_ to his brother.

Killian smiled fondly at both the boys, his heart swelling with affection. Henry and Ian were going to make quite the pair. In fact, they _already_ seemed thick as thieves.

Regina stared at Ian, then her eyes moved slowly to Killian, and then to Emma.

"Well," she said finally, sounding resigned, "this definitely is not the strangest thing that's ever happened in Storybrooke. He's from the future, I take it?"

"Something like that," Killian answered. He felt a tiny flicker of affection for Regina, in that moment. Her reaction was perfectly casual, and would likely set the tone for the rest of this little conference. They needed Regina's cool head, because the last thing this situation required was more drama.

And also because everyone else in the room was already too emotionally attached to Ian to make entirely rational decisions for the safety of Storybrooke. There was no doubt in Killians mind which route he would take if the choice was between the safety of his son, of his _family_ , and the safety of the rest of Storybrooke.

"No, pirate, not ' _something like that_ '," Regina said bitingly, "Either this is your son from the future, or 12 years ago you had a lovechild with some _other_ blonde."

" _Regina_!" Mary Margaret gasped indignantly.

The fondness Killian had felt for Regina only a moment ago fled, probably never to return. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Emma roll her eyes.

" _Actually_ ," piped Ian, "I'm thirteen."

Regina looked him up and down, skeptical, and Killian felt a little insulted.

_Ian's a tad small for thirteen, but so was I. He'll grow._

"Well, I'm assuming you didn't call me all the way out here just to introduce me to the future generation of the Charming family," Regina sighed. "What's going on?"

Killian and Emma exchanged glances. They had talked about this, as well. Regina and Emma shared spots on Zelena's two-person hit list, meaning Regina was in just as much danger as Emma, if not more (likely more, although Killian, for his part, was more concerned with Emma's safety than Regina's). However, Zelena had yet to arrive, so there was no reason to cause a panic. They just needed to --

"Zelena," Ian blurted. "She's coming."

Killian groaned inwardly. He heard Emma say " _Oh my God_ " under her breath.

As a rule, teenage boys couldn't keep secrets. But some were distinctly poorer at it than others.

Regina's face became a stone mask. She sat down slowly in the chair next to Emma's desk, the only indication of how deeply the news was affecting her.

"My sister is coming to Storybrooke," she stated flatly.

"Yes?" Ian said, clearly confused by her reaction. He glanced uncertainly at Emma, but she only nodded for him to continue.

_It's the lad's story to tell, after all. As much as Emma and I want to protect him, it's Ian who needs to do this._

"From the future?"

"Uh-huh."

"How?"

"The time portal."

"The time portal you also must have come out of?"

"Yea..."

"How is it, then, that you're here, but she's not?"

"We weren't exactly holding hands," Ian spat, a little defensively.

Regina continued to stare at Ian expectantly, so he sighed and began to elaborate, sounding as if every syllable was being physically dragged from his body against his will.

"She opened the portal and went in first. I followed her. I knew she wanted to return to a time when Rowan was still a baby, so I tried to concentrate on that, but, I don't know, I guess I messed up. Or I was wrong about the _when_."

Ian shrugged, looking miserable. Emma's expression mirrored Ian's. Mary Margaret's hand went to her heart. Killian understood their feelings completely.

_The lad's too young to have to deal with this. He should be in the future, where he belongs, worrying about schoolwork and hockey and girls (Rowan)._

Regina, however, was obviously unconvinced.

"What he's saying is true," Emma said. "He told me and Killian the exact same story."

"Just because he believes it doesn't mean it's true," Regina said, throwing Emma's own words back at her. "How do we know he is who he says he is?"

"Um, have you _looked_ at him?" Killian asked. David snorted.

_Never mind the fact that it took a unicorn horn to make Emma and I see the truth._

"Okay, how do we know he isn't being manipulated, then? My sister is deranged, it wouldn't exactly be out of character for her to rip the heart out of a child and use him as a puppet."

Killian's jaw clenched at the insinuation. He felt Emma's fingers on his wrist, a warning to keep his temper in check. He relaxed, and Emma's hand moved from his wrist to entwine her fingers with his.

_Your son's watching, mate. You need to set a good example, keep a civil tongue._

"Well, why don't you just take my heart out then and see for yourself," Ian said quietly. Everyone whipped their heads around to stare at him.

"I don't think that's necessary -- " Mary Margaret started, but Regina was already saying, "Ok", and before anyone could react she had stalked over to Ian and plunged her hand into his chest.

Everyone was frozen. Ian's face crumpled in pain. Killian lunged forward, but before he could grab Regina, she was repelled by a flash of white light. The light passed through Killian harmlessly, but Regina was forced to take a few steps backwards. She gripped one hand in the other as if stung.

"I was kidding," Ian choked, massaging his chest.

" _I_ wasn't," Regina said loftily, crossing her arms.

Killian put his hand on the Ian's shoulder. "You alright, lad?"

Ian nodded. Killian moved his hand to the back of the boy's head and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Dad, _I'm fine_ ," Ian said, voice muffled against Killian's jacket, but Ian didn't pull away, so Killian continued to hug him. He glared at Regina over Ian's blonde hair.

"You had no right -- " he started furiously, but Emma interrupted him.

"That light," she said, "The same thing happened when Cora tried to remove my heart in the Enchanted Forest."

Killian remembered.

"Yes. It means, like you," Regina said, every syllable dripping with disdain, "your son has very powerful magic."

"Light magic?" Killian asked, glancing at Emma.

Could it mean...?

"Yes, pirate, _light magic_ ," she said, with disgust. "Your son is the product of True Love. Which is probably what protected him from the Darkness when he was conceived."

Emma raised her hand to her stomach.

Killian knew his and Emma's love was True Love -- the test in the Underworld and the splitting of Emma's heart had proven that, but this meant that their love had been True Love even back in Camelot, in the meadow.

There had been moments, in the past, when Killian had had doubts about Emma's feelings for him; she had so many walls and she clung to her armor _so tightly_ that it was nearly impossible to tell with her, sometimes. But, occasionally, he had seen through the gaps, and what he had seen had given him hope, and so he'd hung on. Emma had only been able to finally admit her feelings for him as she was about to absorb the Darkness, when she believed it was the last time they'd ever see each other, and in Camelot, in the meadow, Killian had begun believing that Emma had spoken truly, that she _loved_ him.

And it had been _True Love_.

Somehow, it made a difference that their True Love hadn't been born from his death, that it hadn't been forced from Emma, that she had come to it in her own time.

His hand joined Emma's, resting over her stomach.

_This boy is proof of everything, proof of our love._

Ian's voice snapped Killian out of his thoughts.

"The Darkness?" he asked weakly. "Mom, dad, what's she talking about?"


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking this chapter is really short, but I think that's only because there's only a little bit of forward momentum.  
> It needed to be done, and I could finally do it now that the whole Underworld arc is over and I know exactly what there is to work with. Obviously I'm just pretending Zelena was never there, and that Hades isn't a supreme evil villain, but more of a jailer, as he was in Greek mythology. And this is sort of the last I want to talk about the Underworld, because, honestly, I'm just sort of done with that whole arc...

_The Underworld, 4 weeks earlier_

Emma eyed the scale.

"I think...I think I have to weigh my heart to see if my love for you is true."

She tried not to let her dismay show. Their only hope for saving Killian so that they and their family could go home rested with _her_ _heart_.

Why couldn't it just have been another three-headed dog?

One of Killian's eyebrows lifted tentatively.

"What?" she asked quickly.

"You're saying what we share is...?"

_True Love._

The hope in his voice _killed_ her, because all _she_ felt was fear and doubt. She loved Killian, loved him in a way she'd never loved anyone before, and never would again, but _True Love_? Truthfully, she was afraid she was too damaged, too broken for something like that. True Love was for princesses in fairytales, not Emma Swan.

"Well, we're about to find out," was all she could manage to say.

Killian looked down, shifted his stance. Emma could see the struggle on his face.

"I know you love me," he said quietly, "but True Love is the rarest magic of all. Are you certain?"

His voice broke a little at the end. He glanced up at her, and there it was again: _hope_.

"I mean, honestly? I'm not sure," she said, because she couldn't lie to him. He swallowed hard, disappointment clear on his face, so she added, "but who could be?"

_Because, really, how the hell were you supposed to figure that sort of thing out except through weirdo life-or-death trials like this?_

Maybe this was something she should have asked her parents when she had the chance...

All she knew was that she had come this far, and she wasn't giving up. She owed Killian that, not only because he'd sacrificed his life to save her and her family, but because he gave her _everything_ , everything he had, all that he was.

And she wanted to be able to do the same.

"We have to try," she said firmly.

Killian's eyes flashed.

"Why can you only admit how you _feel_ when one of us is facing certain death?" he asked, with a little fire in his voice.

"I dunno," she said, shrugging awkwardly.

She did know, but she hesitated, instinct telling her _no, keep your mouth shut_.

But this was _Killian_.

"I guess my armor's been on for such a long that that I...sometimes I forget I don't need it with you. I love you, Killian. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and sometimes...sometimes it's still a little overwhelming."

The frustration in his eyes faded. His whole expression softened, and he looked at her and Emma knew he was _seeing_ her, seeing all that she was, laid bare, and that look gave her the courage she needed for what came next. She pulled her heart from drawstring bag, took a deep, steadying breath, huffed "Here goes", and ascended the altar.

The hand she held her heart with shook slightly. It had always fascinated her how much they looked like strange, faintly glowing jewels. Well, fascinated and frightened, because, you know, it was her _heart_ , out of her chest, out in the open, exposed, _vulnerable_.

Killian stepped back, probably just in case the scale exploded as soon as she placed her heart upon it. She closed her eyes and thought back to Camelot a few weeks ago, when her and Killian had visited the meadow. She pictured herself lying in the middle of the field of flowers in Killian's arms, both of them naked, covered and kept warm by Killian's jacket, smiling and laughing joyfully, wrapped up in their own bliss.

Was that the last time she'd been happy? It was definitely the last time she'd felt at peace.

Emma gently laid her heart on the scale. Her hand hovered anxiously over it for a second, ready to snatch it back.

_C'mon you fucker, don't mess this up. Do something nice for me, for once._

She willed herself to step back, step away and stood holding her breath, waiting, waiting...but nothing happened.

How long should it take to know whether it worked or not? Probably not this long...

Confused, she looked from her heart resting on the scale to the stone door beyond, the stone door blocking the way to her and Killian's only chance at having the future they'd promised each other.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes.

_No way. No fucking way. After all this?_

"It didn't bloody work," Killian said, voice heavy with anguish.

Emma stepped backwards off the altar to stand beside Killian, her mouth hanging open in shock. She couldn't help but feel responsible. It was _her_ fault, it was _her_ heart that was busted, her heart that couldn't pass the test.

Suddenly, pain tore through her, making her gasp. She stumbled to her knees, clutching at her chest.

"Emma! What's wrong?!" Killian cried, alarmed.

_I failed. I failed you and now I'm being punished._

For a moment she didn't care, because she _deserved_ this. At least this way, she could join Killian, they could be together...

Then she felt another pang, lower down, in her abdomen.

Was that...could it be?

Terror clawed its way up her throat.

_I can't --_

"My heart," she ground out. "Get my heart!"

Killian lunged for the scale, and Emma felt his fingers brush against her heart, but with a roar a burst of fire sprang from midair and engulfed him. Killian reeled backwards, screaming.

"KILLIAN!"

She could _feel_ the heat, could see the air shimmering with it.

"Get your heart!" he yelled through the flames.

Emma spared but a glance at her heart before she stumbled to her feet and dove at Killian. Fire licked up her arms, almost causing her to shriek from the pain, but then the inferno was gone, and her and Killian were tumbling to the ground.

Killian landed on his back, and Emma landed half on top of him. He grunted as the air was knocked from his lungs. Before she could ask if he was okay, there was a strange, tumbling series of clicks, followed by a metallic grating.

"What the hell is that?" Killian wheezed.

They both turned their heads in time to see, past the altar where the scale sat with her heart still glowing atop it, the stone door slowly swinging open.

"It's True Love," Killian breathed. He stared at Emma, blue eyes wide with wonder. "Emma you chose me. _That_ was the test."

Maybe True Love _did_ happen to Emma Swan.

-

"Well? Are you going to eat it?" Emma asked, gesturing at the ambrosia Killian cradled in his palm. It was small, a juicy-looking red-purple color, and glittery. She had been surprised at its appearance, surprised that anything so beautiful could grow so deep in the Underworld.

"I'm not sure..." he said slowly, eyeing the ambrosia skeptically. "What if that's not how it works? What if it needs to be ground into a potion, or inserted -- "

"Ok, stop," Emma snorted. "That's gross."

He grinned at her, tucking several of the small fruit into his coat pocket, then held his hand out to her. Just as Emma was slipping her hand into his, the ground began heaving under them, nearly throwing them off their feet. Several ambrosia were shaken from the tree and fell to splatter on the stones. One hit Killian on the shoulder.

" _Bloody hell_ ," he growled, wiping ambrosia juice from his jacket. "What do you reckon that was?"

"The portal," she breathed. "Hades must have had Gold open up the portal."

"A bit early," Killian spat. "Let's go, Swan."

Side-by-side they sprinted back to the elevator and jumped inside. Killian hauled the grate down, and the elevator shuddered to life of its own accord. They were silent as they began rattling up the shaft, trying to catch their breath, trying to both calm their racing hearts and ready themselves for whatever awaited them above.

After a while, Killian's fingers found hers and squeezed.

"Do you really think it could be this simple?" he asked quietly, and he pulled one of the ambrosia from his pocket.

"You mean do I really think Hades is going to just tell us the secret to saving you and then let us go through the portal without asking for something in return?" she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "No."

_Nothing's ever that easy._

Killian pocketed the fruit again.

"But we'll find a way to get back," she added resolutely. "We always do."

"Aye, that we do," he said, and he smiled at her, the hope she'd seen on his face earlier making a reappearance. Emma smiled back. "We're almost home, love,"

 _Home_.

It sounded nice. Maybe this would be it, maybe after this they could finally settle down and live normal lives, be a family...

Something tugged (rather insistently) at her thoughts. Back when her heart had been on the scale, and she'd felt the pain in her chest, she'd felt another pain, a pain lower down, in her stomach...but no -- it probably wasn't what she'd thought it was, it was probably just her imagination, because now wasn't the right time.

-

Killian's hand joined Emma's over her stomach, over Ian (or little Killian, whatever they were calling him while his future self was visiting). Emma had known she'd loved Killian, back in the meadow, but she hadn't known it had been _True Love._ That fact only deepened her conviction that Ian was meant to be in their lives.

"The Darkness?" Ian's voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts. "Mom, dad, what's she talking about?"

Emma's eyes snapped to Ian.

_Oh no._

Regina seemed to realize she'd said something wrong.

"He doesn't know," she said quietly, and although Emma could hear the regret in Regina's voice, inside her head she was _screaming_.

_Of course he doesn't fucking know! Why would he know that? Why would we ever tell him he was accidentally conceived while I was the Dark One? What's wrong with you?_

"Know _what_?" Ian asked loudly, looking between Killian and Emma.

"Henry," Regina said abruptly, "I think you and I should take a little walk."

Henry --who had understood before that Emma's pregnancy hadn't been planned but now also knew that the events surrounding that particular event were far more dire than originally anticipated, and was wise enough to know that, as curious as he might be to hear what Emma and Killian were about to say, it wasn't a conversation for his ears (at least not yet, not until Ian told him later, probably, because _boys_ ) -- allowed himself to be briskly ushered from the office.

"Um, maybe we should go too?" David asked, glancing between Henry and Regina's retreating backs and Emma, searching for confirmation. Emma, mouth set in a grim line, only nodded.

"Emma," Regina asked, stopping just short of the office door, "Can I have your permission to fill your parents in?"

Emma hesitated, looking to Killian for a moment, then said, "Yea, go ahead,"

What would it hurt, at this point? The worst had already happened...

David and Mary Margaret followed Regina out, throwing her worried looks. Emma tried to smile reassuringly at them. She knew they wanted to be there for her, to support her, but this was between Emma, Killian, and Ian.

When she heard the station door close behind her family, she and Killian turned to Ian.

"You might want to sit down," Emma told him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The butterflies from earlier were back, with a vengeance. She felt like she might throw up.

Ian stubbornly remained standing.

"Does this have to do with the unicorn horn?" he asked, a determined frown on his face.

_He's strong, I know he's strong...but can he handle what we're about to reveal?_

"We'll...we'll get to that," she said, a little weakly, and Killian was suddenly there with his arm around her, supporting her. She leaned into him, feeling like she may collapse if she didn't.

"You got the unicorn horn because you were afraid I'd be evil?" Ian persisted, his voice taking on a bit of an edge.

"No, not...not exactly," she said, looking at Killian pleadingly. "I want to explain, I just...I just don't know where to start."

"Start from the beginning, then," Ian said, and reached behind him to grab Henry's storybook from the bench. He placed it in her hands, and in his eyes, although Emma saw trepidation, she also saw _trust_.

Killian's arm tightened encouragingly around her.

Emma took the book from Ian, but hesitated. What _was_ the beginning, exactly? Emma had no idea how much Ian knew about her and Killian's past. And besides that, there were some things kids didn't need to know, and very high on that list was the events surrounding their conception.

She opened the book and flipped to the back, to the newest pages, and found the one with the illustration of her standing in the middle of Main Street, holding the Dark One dagger thrust upwards into the swirling cloud of Darkness as it descended, intent on consuming her.

She turned the book so that Ian could see, and asked, "Did you know that, for a little while, I was the Dark One?"

Sometimes her time as the Dark One felt so far away, as if it had happened long ago, to another version of Emma. So much had happened since then...

"Yes. You became the Dark One to save Aunt Regina from having to become the Dark One," said Ian, a little impatiently. He flipped forward through the pages, stopping on the one showing her and Killian in the meadow, Killian lying nearly dead, bleeding out from the wound on his neck, Emma holding Excalibur over his prone body, ribbons of inky blackness leaking from the blade. "And then you made dad a Dark One to save him. And then dad...well..."

Ian's eyes flickered to Killian. Killian swallowed hard and look away, his arm disappearing from around her waist. Emma managed to snare his wrist before he could pull away completely. Killian's jaw clenched, and Emma could feel the tension in his body, but he settled back against her and returned his arm to her waist.

Ian, watching all this, went a little pale.

_It's not your fault, kid. It's just still a little fresh for us._

Ian's own jaw clenched, and he began quickly flipping through the book, skipping well ahead, and said pointedly, "Dad sacrificed himself to save Storybrooke, to make up for the mistakes he made while he was a Dark One." He stopped on a page showing Emma running Killian through with Excalibur.

Killian looked, if possible, more miserable. Emma's own heart ached at the memory.

"Dad, I -- " started Ian, clearly distressed.

"It's okay, lad," Killian said, voice gruff. "I'll be okay. Continue."

"Dad saved Storybrooke," Ian reiterated firmly, and Emma saw, out of the corner of her eye, Killian's expression relax. "He was a hero. Well, he _should_ have been a hero...except, Mr. Gold tricked you guys," -- more turning pages, an illustration showing Emma in Gold's shop, confronting him after she realized he had become the Dark One again -- "and instead of the Darkness being destroyed, it all just went back into him again. So, because he was such an asshole -- " Killian cleared his throat " -- because he was such a _jerk_ you made him summon Charon to ferry everyone to the Underworld, to rescue dad."

Ian looked up, looked at Killian. "Because dad didn't deserve to die for nothing."

Emma stared at the pages Ian revealed in fascination. She'd never seen these ones before. Ian, on the other hand, seemed very familiar with them. He sounded as if he was reciting a story he knew by heart. Which, Emma realized, he probably did, because if she knew Henry (and she did), he had probably made sure Ian knew _exactly_ where he came from. She could hear the same pride in Ian's voice as he spoke as Henry had whenever he read a story from the book about her or Regina or David and Mary Margaret.

Killian reached a hand out to Ian, to cup his cheek momentarily, and then it fell to rest gently on Ian's shoulder.

"Mom rescued dad from Hades, and then because Hades was so fed up with your _persistent meddling,"_ here Ian grinned, "he sent you guys to get ambrosia to restore dad's body. To retrieve the ambrosia you had to pass a test, and the test revealed that your love was True Love," he glanced up at them, wearing an embarrassed sort of smile now. Emma felt a similar one creep across her face. "You got the ambrosia, dad ate it, then mom split her heart into two pieces, put one in dad's chest, and returned the other to her own."

"Hades had Mr. Gold open a portal to Storybrooke, and you and dad and everyone else went home through it. Except for Mr. Gold. He stayed in the Underworld, because the only way to keep his unborn child from Hades was to trade his life for hers. And because _Mr. Gold_ is in the Underworld, the Darkness is too," Ian finished. "So, I don't understand what the Darkness has to do with _me_."

Emma took a deep breath, sent a silent apology to her future self for what she was about to reveal, and flipped through the book until she came to the part where Killian brought her to the meadow to prove to her that, if she put her faith in him, if she trusted him, he could help her overcome the Darkness. The illustration showed her and Killian facing each other with the middlemist flower between them, both their hands enjoined around the stem.

She wanted Ian to understand, but it was difficult when there were so many things they couldn't tell him about that moment, about how they gave themselves to each other fully in that moment, not holding anything back, how for the first time she let down her walls and let Killian in, all the way in...

"10 weeks ago..." Emma began, then trailed off.

_We're about to tell this kid he was conceived in a field. Next I'll have to tell Henry he was conceived in the backseat of the bug._

"10 weeks ago." Ian said, brow creasing in consternation, "You said...you said you were 10 weeks pregnant."

"10 weeks ago, your mother was the Dark One," Killian said quietly.

Ian's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Oh," he said. " _Ohhhhhhh._ Your True Love protected me from the Darkness."

" _Yes_. I wanted a unicorn horn because I was afraid the Darkness had hurt you," Emma said. "Do you understand that? I wasn't afraid of _you_ , I was afraid I'd made a mistake and that my mistake had...had _condemned_ you to something terrible."

Ian was silent for a moment. Emma held her breath, waiting, hoping.

"So," he asked, with a faint grin, "I _was_ an accident?"

"You were...you were a _surprise_ ," Emma admitted, able to breathe again, and she couldn't help the smile spreading across her face.

_You may not have been in our plans, kid, but you're our future._

"Accident implies misfortune, lad," Killian said. "And you may be the _luckiest_ thing that's ever happened to us."

Ian's face reddened. Emma took his hands, holding both of them between her own.

"Does that change anything? Knowing you were a _surprise_?" she asked, and squeezed his fingers, the way Killian squeezed her fingers when he wanted to reassure her, when he wanted to lend her his strength.

Ian looked down at their joined hands, thinking.

After what felt like an eternity to Emma, he raised his eyes to meet hers, and said firmly, "No. No, it doesn't."

Emma almost sobbed with relief. She pulled him into a tight hug. Ian clung to her, and Emma thought she could feel him trembling slightly. Then Killian's arms were around both of them, his hand resting against the back of Ian's head.

"We love you, lad," Killian said.

"I know," Ian answered. "I love you, too."

Eventually, and reluctantly, Emma let Ian go. He stepped back, wiping at his eyes, still looking a little stunned.

"Here, lad." Killian dug his flask from his jacket and held it out to Ian. "This'll help."

Ian took the flask reverently, eyes wide.

"Killian!" Emma admonished, staring in disbelief. She could feel her eyes bulging from her head. Was he really giving their 13-year-old rum?

Ian, probably knowing Emma was about to stop him, took a hasty swig. Instantly, he screwed up his face in revulsion.

_Yea, no shit._

Killian began laughing hysterically.

"Oh my Godddddd, dad. It's _warm._ That's _disgusting_."

Suspicious, Emma took the flask from Ian and sniffed. It was orange juice.

"I told you," Killian said smugly. "Orange juice is good for you."

"Well, thanks, now I'll never be able to drink it again without remembering _this_."

Killian just grinned toothily and took the flask back.

"Why don't you clean yourself up in the bathroom before we call everyone back," Emma suggested.

_There are still plenty of things we need to talk about tonight..._

Ian nodded and walked away. When he was in the bathroom, safely out of earshot, Emma turned to Killian, one eyebrow raised.

"Orange juice?"

She felt like she was missing a crucial part of the joke...

Killian rubbed behind one of his ears, grinning embarrassedly, then said, "I once witnessed Robin trying to get Roland to eat something called _broccoli_ , and, well, I figured it's never too early to start practicing tricking our son into eating things that are healthy for him."

Emma laughed while Killian continued to smile.

She couldn't wait to see him be a dad.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter so many times today that I'm not precisely sure what's what, so hopefully it makes sense. 
> 
> I created a tumblr: peglegsjones.tumblr.com. There's nothing really there right now, just an easier way to be like, "Hey, no, still writing, sorry!" :D
> 
> This is totes magoats baby Ian and Rowan: http://teuvo-teravainens.tumblr.com/post/119317945500

Regina, Henry, David, and Mary Margaret's "little walk" had ended up being directly to their cars, to escape the cold. While Killian stayed inside, waiting for Ian to emerge from the bathroom, Emma went out to the parking lot. There, she was informed by David and Mary Margaret that the Sheriff's Station was not the appropriate venue for their first conversation with their future grandson, so they proposed moving their little party to Chateau Charming.

"Actually," Emma said hesitantly, knowing what she was about to say was going to _crush_ her parents, but knowing she _had_ to say it, "I was thinking maybe it would be better if you guys went ahead, while Killian, Regina and I stayed here to talk to Ian."

"I don't understand," Mary Margaret said, confused. "You don't want us here?"

"It's not that, exactly. It's just, I think the less people Ian has staring at him right now, the better." Emma said, stuffing her hands into her back pockets. "It's hard enough for him as it is. He's here all alone..."

"He's not alone!" Mary Margaret protested.

"He is though, in a way," Emma said sadly. "At least, I think that's how he feels, you know? That's how I felt, at least, when Killian and I went back in time."

A look of sympathy fell over Mary Margaret's face. David put his arm around his wife for support, and Emma saw in his expression that he understood, that he could put himself in Emma's place and could see himself making the same decision for her that she was making for Ian.

"Emma, we only want -- " he began, but was interrupted by the arrival of Killian and Ian.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" Emma sighed, even though she really didn't feel like having this conversation twice in the same day (or ever again, for that matter).

"Okay," Mary Margaret agreed, although Emma could see how much Emma's request wounded her. "Your father and I just want you to know we're here for you, no matter what."

"I know, just -- later, okay?" Emma repeated firmly, and then, because the _guilt_ was just too much to bear, she added, "Here, why don't you hug your new grandson? I know you've been dying to since you met him," and she pulled Ian from Killian's side and shoved him into Mary Margaret's arms, which closed around Ian instantly.

"Huh?" Ian grunted, looking a little bewildered.

"Just go with it kid," Emma muttered.

"Oh, Ian," Mary Margaret crooned, "We're so happy to meet you."

"Thanks, grandma," Ian said in an amused voice.

David joined the hug, wrapping his free arm around Ian, lifting his hand to cup the back of Ian's head.

"Hey, Ian," David said, and Emma knew it was a grandfather-greeting-his-grandson-for-the-first-time kind of "hey".

"Hey, grandpa," Ian answered, clearly trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the position he had suddenly found himself in.

Seeing Ian there, sandwiched between his grandparents and smiling in an embarrassed sort of way, made Emma feel oddly proud. David and Mary Margaret's signature hug was their form of acceptance, of approval. Emma glanced at Killian, and saw that same look of pride in his eye.

_David gave him the Seal of Approval; Killian's probably going to have " I think Killian's the perfect choice for his first name" carved onto the prow of the Jolly Roger._

_Or at least have some sort of legal document drawn up declaring that David said he approved of naming our son after Killian._

Regina appeared at Emma's side. "If you could wrap up this little Charming love fest sometime soon, that'd be great. I have an infant to get home to," she drawled, and whisked herself back into the station.

"We'll meet you back at the apartment," David said, loosening his hold on Ian. Emma noticed that his eyes were looking a little extra-bright, and Mary Margaret brushed a tear from her cheek and gave a little sniff as Ian slid out from between her and David.

Their dreams of having a big family were coming true (even if it wasn't in the way they had originally imagined).

They waved, and, both still looking a little glum, departed.

She would make it up to them later; right now she had to do right by her son.

Emma, Killian, and Ian joined Regina and Henry in the interrogation room, as it was the only room with a table large enough for five people to sit around comfortably. Emma eyed the table, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The setting made it abundantly clear that an _interrogation_ was exactly what they were about to conduct. Ian was staring stonily at the table, and Killian, noticing this, suggested he, Ian, and Henry go scrounge up whatever they could in the form of refreshments.

"How did it go?" Regina asked, when they were alone.

"Hm? Oh. Not bad, actually," Emma admitted.

"You're saying he took the news that he was almost the first infant Dark One _well_?"

"Mmm," Emma said noncommittally, clamping down hard on the urge to point out that it was Regina's fault that Ian had had to find out that particular bit of news in the first place. Regina had changed, without a doubt, but her interpersonal skills were still a work in progress, and sometimes -- _god damn, sometimes_ _I just want to slap her._

Remembering the look on Ian's face when Regina had mentioned the Darkness and its attendance at Ian's conception, Emma felt a fierce protectiveness rise up in her suddenly. The conversation her and Killian had just had with Ian had left her feeling as if they'd disappointed him, somehow, and she was determined not to let him down again.

_We can't._

The boys returned and everyone took their places at the table.  Killian began passing around the mugs full of various hot liquids; coffees for himself and Regina, tea for Emma, and hot chocolates for Henry and Ian.

Ian reached out to take his mug, but when he caught sight of the one Killian was offering him, he shuddered, said, "Ah. Um. No thank you." and withdrew his hand.

"Not fond of clowns, are we?" Killian asked, smirking. He set the clown's head mug ( _when the hell did the circus ever come to Storybrooke?)_ on the table and started sliding it towards Ian.

"Dad, come on," Ian pleaded, leaning back in his chair as far as he could, away from the leering clown face inching towards him.

"Alright, lad, alright," Killian said, still smiling deviously. The clown mug veered suddenly and was pushed into Emma's hands instead, and Ian was given the much less frightening plain green one.

"What did clowns ever do to you?" Emma asked, curious.

"Isn't it enough that they exist?" Ian grumbled, side-eyeing her mug with disgust.

"If we're all _settled_ ," Regina said pointedly, with a glare that managed to encompass Emma, Killian, Ian, and the clown mug. "Can we try this again?"

Ignoring Regina's impatience, Emma turned to Ian and, making sure he was looking her in the eyes, asked quietly, "You okay to do this, kid?"

They could go home. The four of them could spend the night sitting on the couch under a pile of blankets, watching Pirates of the Caribbean and eating brownies, and have this conversation tomorrow. All Ian had to do was say no, and she'd have them all in their coats and out the door on the way to the bug in an instant.

Ian glanced at Regina, then back at Emma, and Emma saw determination in his blue eyes.

"I know we have to," he said. "I'll tell you what I can."

"Brave lad," Killian praised, grinning encouragingly and slinging an arm over the back of Ian's chair.

"Can you just promise me one thing?" Ian asked.

"What's that, lad?"

"Promise me I'm not going to find out anything else crazy, like that I'm adopted and my parents are actually bridge trolls or something."

Killian burst out laughing.

"Hey," said Henry conspiratorially, nudging Ian with his elbow, "At least you were conceived somewhere _romantic_. Mom got pregnant with _me_ in the backseat of the bug."

Emma's mouth dropped open.

_How in the hell....?_

Killian only laughed harder.

"No way!" Ian gasped, and startled giggling.

Regina glared accusingly at Emma, who decided she couldn't wait for Henry to grow up and stop being a teenager.

"Let's get this over with," Emma said loudly, face hot, barely resisting the urge to run from the room. Or punch Killian in his dumb, smirking face.

"Yes, let's," Regina agreed dryly.

When the boys' giggles finally subsided, and Killian had himself under control again (and don't think Emma wasn't going to forget _that_ little betrayal any time soon), Regina raised one imperious eyebrow at Ian.

"Tell us everything you can. Start from the beginning," she commanded.

"Well, I was born on -- "

" _You know what I mean_!" she snapped.

Ian shrugged, mood suddenly sober. " Zelena opened the time portal and went in. I followed her, and now I'm here. All you need to know is that she's coming."

Emma recognized Ian's obstinate expression: he'd had the same look on his face when they'd questioned him in the hospital the night he'd arrived.

Regina sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, leveling her most severe dark-eyed stare at Ian, and asked, "Does my sister want what I think she wants?"

"If you're thinking that she wants Rowan, then yea," Ian answered, gazing back unflinchingly.

"Anything else?" Regina prompted.

Ian glanced at Emma, and Emma understood.

"She wants _me_ ," Emma said, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on her. "She wants to hurt me, because of what I did to her."

Killian's hand was on her shoulder, and Emma grasped it, clinging to his fingers. She wasn't afraid of Zelena -- rather, she wasn't afraid of what Zelena might do to her...the problem was, it wasn't just Emma anymore. It was Emma and the baby -- her and Killian's son.

"Well, you did basically rip her daughter right from her womb," Regina said, then added hastily, "Not that I'm not grateful."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Ian," Killian said, giving their son a scrutinizing look. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Ian looked quickly away. "She wants mom to suffer, how she suffered. She's going to...she's--"

"She's going to try and take you," Emma finished for him.

"Take me, or kill me. Either of me. I don't know."

She had assumed as much, but hearing it confirmed made a hard knot of fear form in her belly.

_What if I lose both of them? Both Ians?_

Her grip on Killian's fingers tightened.

"That's not going to happen," Killian said, voice low, with a dangerous edge to it.

Emma caught his eye, and she saw the steely glint there, the promise, the promise that he would die before letting anything happen to her or Ian, and if he died he was taking Zelena down with him.

"Why _you_?" Regina asked Ian suddenly. "Where were _we,_ " she gestured at herself, Killian and Emma, "when all this happened?"

Emma tensed. Regina had asked something Emma had been wondering, deep down, but been afraid to dwell on: _Why did we let him come here all alone?_

The only answer she could think of was frightening: _We weren't there to stop him. Ian's facing this all alone because we weren't there..._

"I...I can't tell you," Ian replied, looking down, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

"Ian, we need to know," Emma coaxed, hoping he couldn't hear the fear in her voice. "Please."

Emma didn't _want_ to know, but she knew they _needed_ to know.

"You have to tell us, lad," Killian added gently.

"I can't!" Ian grated, his knuckles going white as he tightened his grip on his mug.

To Emma's surprise, it was Regina who came to the rescue.

"Can you at least tell us whose baby Zelena used to open the time portal this time?"

"Oh," Ian said, surprised. He loosened his hold on his hot chocolate. "No one's. She didn't use a baby to open the portal."

"How did she open the portal then?" Killian asked.

"She just... _did_."

"Well, aren't you a _wealth_ of information?" Regina sneered.

Ian's eyes flashed and his mouth settled in a straight line.

" _Regina_ ," Emma said warningly. "He's trying his best."

"He shouldn't be here," Regina said, "Someone who can actually _do something_ should be here."

"Mom, _stop_ ," Henry said, but Regina continued her rant.

"Zelena's on her way to murder us all and all _Ian_ can say is 'I can't tell you' and 'I don't know'."

Suddenly, Ian's hot chocolate was boiling in his mug, and he was shaking all over, cheeks bright red.

Regina's eyes narrowed with a sort of dark satisfaction.

"Looks like _someone_ inherited his pirate father's anger issues," she said smugly.

It was a bad idea to let Regina take the lead on this. Emma knew what Regina was doing, knew she was pushing Ian, hoping he would lose control and reveal something important, something they needed; but Ian wasn't a perp, Ian was _her kid_.

Emma had to take control.

"Ian," she said, drawing his attention. She could see the anger and the hurt in his eyes. "When Zelena opened the portal the first time she had to collect four very special ingredients..."

Ian closed his eyes. "Symbols of wisdom, courage, love, and innocence," he said, sounding as if he was reciting lines he had rehearsed for a play.

"Yes," Emma said. "Did she do that this time?"

"No," Ian said, opening his eyes again, and Emma saw that his anger had vanished. She regretted not having this conversation with him privately, first, before they involved everyone else.

"How did she open the portal, then?"

Ian took a deep breath.

"According to _you_ ," he said, nodding towards Regina (Emma heard the barely restrained irritation in his voice), "When Zelena created the time portal and used it the first time, it created a tear in the fabric of time."

"What's the tear do?" Emma asked, trying to keep his attention focused on her.  

"It's like...you can use the portal to travel through time, but only to Storybrooke," he said, brows knit in the same expression Henry wore when he was trying to work out a particularly difficult math problem.

"You're saying that, in terms of physical location, the destination is fixed?" Regina interjected. "And the destination is Storybrooke. The barn where the time portal physically exists, to be precise."

Ian nodded.

Regina considered for a moment. "Theoretically, it makes sense."

"That makes sense?" Emma asked weakly, feeling a little dumb.

Regina ignored her. "How do you...reopen the tear? To time travel?"

"Well," said Ian, "that's the thing: I guess you just need _a lot_ of magic. Like, a metric fuck-ton of mag--"

" _Language_ , Ian," Killian growled.

Emma, who was pretty sure Ian had picked up all his swears from her, didn't have the heart to even _look_ disapproving.

"Just...a lot of magic," Ian corrected himself, glancing at Killian. "Zelena almost couldn't do it: she collapsed right after she opened the portal. Mordred had to help her through."

" _Mordred?_ " Emma asked sharply.

Mordred...the name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Oh, yea, did I not mention him?" Ian blinked in surprise. Regina looked like she wanted to choke him.

"Mordred as in the illegitimate son of Arthur? _That_ Mordred?" Henry asked.

"I don't know about the illegitimate part," answered Ian, looking thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure Queen Guinevere is his mom."

Suddenly, it made sense. _Le Morte d'Arthur, The Mists of Avalon, The Once and Future King, I Am Mordred..._ the books Ian was reading when Emma found him at the station after he'd run from the hospital.

"Great, first my deranged sister, and now the son of a psychopath. Looks like we have an exciting Christmas ahead of us."

Emma grimaced.

_Just once I'd like to have something nice happen._

Regina glanced at the clock. "Anything else I should know, before I leave?"

"I'd like to know something," Killian said. "If Zelena wanted Rowan, why did she have to travel back in time to do it? Why not just take her in the future? I imagine kidnapping a teenager is easier than trying to kidnap an infant, correct? An infant is under constant parental supervision. It's far easier to take a child when they're old enough to move about independently..."

Emma didn't even want to ask how he knew all that.

"Well, for one thing," Ian said, matter-of-factly, "Rowan would _never_ stand for it."

"You sound like you know my daughter quite well," Regina said shrewdly, fixing Ian with a penetrating glare.

Ian gulped. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Killian hide his smirk by taking an extra long gulp of his coffee.

_That's right, Killian told me Ian has a crush on Rowan...that'll be interesting._

And by "interesting" she meant it'd likely be a nightmare for her and Killian, because there was no way Regina was going to stand by idly and let their little spitfire of a son woo her daughter.

"Time travel is sort of my sister's M.O.," Regina answered, her gaze on Ian unwavering. "Don't like your life? Just take a trip to the past and change it."

"Oh, for the record," Ian piped, holding up a finger, "I was quite happy with how things in the future were, and I would like to _not_ change them, if possible."

"Yes," said Regina, "Speaking of that, what precautions are you taking to ensure that Ian being here doesn't impact the future?"

She looked at Emma and Killian expectantly, and was met with two very blank stares.

"We haven't exactly talked about it," Emma confessed.

"Oh dear lord," Regina hissed. "I really need to leave before I set someone on fire."

She stood abruptly and went to the door. "The four of you can figure that one out on your own. I have to get home. Henry, are you coming with or staying here?"

Henry glanced at Ian, and then the two of them fixed Emma with identical, pleading stares.

"Mom, can I sleepover?" Henry asked.

Emma made a face. "Are you really asking me if you can stay at your own house?"

"That's a yes!" Ian exclaimed, and he and Henry high-fived across the table.

Regina was looking at Henry with affection, and Emma understood: Henry didn't have many friends. It was nice to see him getting on so well with someone his own age, acting like a kid.

"Regina, we're going to my parents' for dinner. Do you want to get Robin, Roland, and the baby and meet us?" Emma asked.

"Thank you for the invitation," Regina said, a little stiffly. "But I'd like to discuss this situation with Robin. Privately."

Emma nodded, and said, "We're not going to let anything happen to Rowan."

"No, we're not," Regina agreed, and then gestured at Ian awkwardly. "Or to...Ian."

Emma noticed Killian's expression, critical of Regina's sincerity on that last bit, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut. The five of them left the station together. Regina said her goodbyes and drove from the parking lot in the Benz without a backwards glance.

Her, Killian, Henry and Ian decided they would walk the few blocks to Emma's parents' apartment, mostly because everyone's heads felt a little full and could do with some fresh air (however cold that air might be). They had to walk single-file down the narrow avenue shoveled through the snow. Everyone was quiet, subdued.

There was too much going on in Emma's head: how were they going to protect Rowan and Ian? How were they going to defeat Zelena for good this time? How were they going to stop the future from imploding?  

As they were passing by the library, Ian gasped.

Emma spun around. "What?"

Ian was staring at nothing, eyes wide.

"Nothing," he said slowly. "I just remembered something someone told me once."

Emma's brows knit in puzzlement.

"I think...I think everything's going to be okay," he grinned, and then plowed past her to catch up to Henry.

"What was that all about, Swan?" Killian asked from behind her.

"He said he remembered something someone told him once," she said, shrugging, eyes on Henry and Ian, who had started up a snowball fight.

"Something that might help us defeat Zelena?"

"Maybe..." Emma answered, then, "DUCK!"

She squatted down, and the snowball hit Killian, walking behind her, square in the chest.

"Bloody hell," Killian growled. "Do us a favor, love, and make a few snowballs."

Grinning, Emma packed a snowball and handed it up to Killian, who, with a shout of "Fire in the hole!" launched it at Henry and Ian, sending them scrambling for cover.

"C'mon, Swan," Killian said, grinning like a little boy, "We're not going down without a fight."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she laughed, and started packing another snowball.

-

_5 years in the future (or, if you're Ian, 8 years ago)_

It was the middle of August, Emma was 8-and-a -half months pregnant, and, physically speaking, she was _miserable_. Being very pregnant during the summer was absolute hell, but, hot as it was, she couldn't stand to have the windows closed so she could turn the AC on (having the windows closed made her feel penned-in), so she was lying in bed in shorts and a tank top with the fan perched as close to the bed as physically possible, turned full-blast and blowing directly on her sweating face.

In spite of the heat, she was snuggled up with Ian, who, as usual, just like his father, was radiating warmth like a tiny, blazing inferno. Emma was leaning back against the pillows, Ian nestled against her side with his head resting on her shoulder, and Henry's storybook propped open using a combination of her very large, round stomach and her knees. She was reading her and Killian's story for perhaps the 100th time -- it was Ian's favorite. Ian was 5 and about to start Kindergarten -- meaning he was a _big boy_ now, as he kept telling her -- and she feared there weren't many moments like these left, so she was taking advantage of it.

"And then Killian said: 'Aye, love, I'm more than okay. I'm perfect. Everything's _perfect_.'"

"Then you kissed!" Ian giggled.

"Then we kissed," Emma agreed.

_And then we had some very hot sex, but that's not in the book._

That was also the night Emma had first realized she was pretty sure her and Killian were having a son, and the night she'd decided she wanted to name him after his father.

The latter was probably the best decision she'd ever made, or would again.

"Hey, mom?" Ian asked, disrupting Emma's reminiscing.

"Hmm?"

"Why does this page say 3-1-2," he pointed to the page Emma had just read from, the part of the story where Emma and Killian were on the Jolly Roger, when she had told him she was pregnant, "and this one," his finger moved to the page directly opposite, which showed a picture of Emma and Killian in the hospital the day she gave birth to Ian, "says 3-8-8? Where are the other pages?"

Emma was impressed that he understood what the numbers meant (but then again, Ian spent a lot of time with Killian, Killian who had read a few too many parenting books and was determined to _enrich_ their little boy at home).

"You know what, kid? I have no idea. I never noticed that before..." she admitted.

Emma looked back and forth between the two pages. There was no visible break in the story, or even a gap in the binding to show that 76 pages were missing. So why were the numbers off?

"Why don't you go ask Henry?"

It was Henry's book, after all: he had written those particular pages himself, as the Author, and was therefore in exactly the right position to answer Ian's question.

"Okay!" Ian said brightly. Emma closed the book and handed it to Ian. Clutching the book to his chest, Ian scrambled off the bed and sprinted to the door, but stopped suddenly when he reached it, turned on his heel, ran back to the bed and clambered atop it once more.

"Be right back, Jackie," he said, and planted a kiss on Emma's belly.

He was about to climb back off the bed, but Emma cleared her throat loudly.

"Eh-hem!"

Ian looked at her a little guiltily, with the same expression he'd worn yesterday when Emma caught him parading around the house with his father's hook and brace perched on top of his head like an extra-dangerous hat.

"I think you're forgetting someone," she said, and tapped her lips pointedly. Ian smiled cheerfully ( _not too much of a big boy then, not yet_ ), and gave her a kiss.

"Be right back, mom," he said, then raced from the room and down the hall. Emma heard him yelling, "HENRY!", and then there was a crash that sounded as if he karate-kicked Henry's bedroom door open, followed by a startled shout, then silence.

Emma chuckled to herself. She was going to miss having both her boys in the house; Henry was in the process of packing to go away for his second year at Harvard, and that, coupled with the fact that Ian was starting Kindergarten in two weeks, made her want to cry and throw things. Her boys were growing up too fast. Emma rested her hand on her stomach. It seemed like only yesterday Ian was a baby. She simultaneously missed it and couldn't wait to see how he continued to grow and change.

Ian returned quietly, startling Emma.

"Well?" she asked as Ian rejoined her on the bed.

"It's a secret," Ian answered solemnly, his tone telling Emma the subject was closed. Ian could be surprisingly stubborn when he wanted to be.

"Can you read me the story about when you and dad met?" he asked, settling against her side once more.

"Sure, kid," Emma said, smiling, and she propped the book open on her knees again, flipping through the book until she found the beginning of her and Killian's story.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this, I was PRAYING that I'd be able to make the story last 25 chapters, and now I think it'll end up being twice that? 
> 
> Hopefully the time-travel discussion in the last chapter made sense, and hopefully the brief one in this chapter does too. It's like, time travel isn't a real thing with real defined laws so I'm just making it up to suit the story and maybe it'll make sense and not be completely ridiculous?

It was after dinner, and Mary Margaret had drawn Emma away from the group to have a private conversation. They currently sat on either side of Mary Margaret and David's bed, baby Neal sitting between them, chewing thoughtfully on a rubber toy block.

"Are you ready for one of these?"

Mary Margaret's question startled Emma a little. She had been expecting to have to explain all about the Darkness and getting pregnant in the meadow first, before the conversation turned to how afraid she was to be having a baby.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Emma admitted, looking down at her little brother. Neal's eyes seemed to have finally decided what color they would be, and settled on the same greenish color as Emma and Mary Margaret's. His head had remained stubbornly bald, however, although Emma thought the few wispy little hairs he did have looked dark, like their mother's.

As cute as Neal was, and as much as her heart filled with love every time she saw him, babies still scared the shit out of her.

Ok -- she wasn't frightened _of_ them; she was afraid of what they might do or what might happen to them while she was around them. Or, even worse, that they would cry _because_ of her, because she wasn't the warm, cuddly type and babies could sense that sort of thing. Neal was comfortable with her, sure, but he didn't reach out for her eagerly the way he reached for Mary Margaret and David. Or Granny. Or even Aurora and Ashley (who often babysat Neal alongside their own children).

Truthfully she was very, very worried that somehow she _couldn't_ be a mother. She had known as much thirteen years ago, when she gave Henry away. This time? She _wanted_ to, she wanted to more than _anything_...but what if, in spite of that, she just wasn't able to?

"I'm scared," Emma said, looking down. She plucked at the comforter, trying to distract herself from the knot of anxiety in her stomach. "I mean, I've never done it before. Not exactly, anyway. Raising Henry _now_ isn't the same as raising an infant..."

"Oh, Emma," Mary Margaret laid her hand over Emma's, stilling Emma's nervous fingers. She tried to return her mom's smile, but her face seemed to be malfunctioning and all she was able to produce was a grimace.

"It can be really frightening, at times," Mary Margaret said softly. "Although, in my case, that's also because both times I was pregnant my babies were being threatened by evil witches," she added with a laugh. "But I worried a lot, both times, about other things. I worried what might go wrong -- you remember the cradle cap incident? I worried that I wouldn't be able to do it, that I wouldn't be a good mother..."

Emma looked at her sharply, and Mary Margaret just smiled a little sadly.

"I had my doubts," Mary Margaret confessed, sounding as she was revealing a deep, dark secret.

" _You_ had doubts?" Emma asked, slightly incredulous.

"Of course I did! I mean, don't tell your father; I had to pretend to be confident, for his sake, because he was more scared than I was."

Mary Margaret smiled at the memory, and Emma felt the knot in her stomach loosen, just slightly. It felt really nice, having her mother there to talk to about this. Last time, she'd had _no_ support; now, she had Killian, her parents, Henry...

Part of her, the part that was still stubbornly a loner, insisted that she didn't _need_ them, but she knew that was just a defensive instinct, because she _did_ need them: she needed Killian to place his hand reverently on her stomach, to fuss over her and insist she eat things like oatmeal and drink three glasses of milk a day, to bring home books he planned to read to their son; she needed her mother to hold her hand and share her experiences, give her advice,  tell her it was scary but everything was going to turn out great; she needed her dad to be his overprotective self and vent his feelings by bullying Killian; she needed Henry to read stories to his little brother while he was still in the womb and gush about how _cool_ it was going to be to have a little brother.

And what's more, she didn't just need those things, she  _wanted_  them.

Emma could sense that Mary Margaret had more to say, something that was difficult for her to speak about, so Emma did what Killian so often did for her when she was struggling with how to talk about something, and just waited patiently.

Finally Mary Margaret spoke. "After we...well, after what we did to Maleficent's baby, I worried every day, _every single day_ , that Charming and I didn't deserve you."

Mary Margaret glanced at her, and then quickly away, but Emma caught a brief glimpse of the tears gathered in her eyes. Emma didn't say anything; she couldn't. That whole thing still made her feel _icky_ , but she thought maybe she understood things a little better, now. She understood, for example, the fear they must have felt, the fear of having a child consumed by the Darkness and having it somehow be _your fault_ , the feeling that you'd do anything to prevent that, to keep your child safe.

"But...I _wanted_ to deserve you," Mary Margaret said determinedly, looking at Emma with green eyes no longer filled with tears, but suddenly glittering fiercely. "I wanted to be good enough for you."

Emma didn't believe that what her parents had done was okay, but she had accepted that they had erred, and that they knew that their actions and choices (however manipulated they may have been by a devious little fuckface Author who preyed on their desperation) were wrong, and that they were trying every day to be better.

Which reminded Emma of a few other people she knew.

"Mom..." Emma started (she wanted to say that David and Mary Margaret were good enough, that they were _more_ than good enough, that she loved them and was grateful for them and everything about them), but Mary shook her head, cutting her off -- she wasn't finished.

"When you were born, I looked at you and I saw all our hope, our _future_ , in one tiny little bundle. I knew you were good, you were _light_. I knew you were going to save us all."

Before Emma could formulate a reply, Neal began making discontented gurgles, drawing both her and Mary Margaret's attention down to him.

"Hi, baby," Mary Margaret cooed, giving Neal a sunny smile. "Don't worry, we haven't forgotten about you."

When he saw his mother's focus back on him, Neal smiled cheerfully and went back to chewing on the toy block. Emma couldn't help but envy how easy it was for Mary Margaret to comfort Neal. Maybe it was just some instinct that would kick in, when Ian was born? She remembered the vision from the unicorn horn, when she'd been holding baby Ian...she hadn't been afraid, hadn't felt uncomfortable; she'd felt warm and happy and excited. It had felt _natural._  

"Emma, I need to know," Mary Margaret said, keeping her tone light in spite of the subject so that Neal wouldn't get upset again. "Is what your father and I did to Maleficent the reason you didn't tell us that you were pregnant while you were the Dark One?"

"No," Emma shrugged and smiled. "I only found out I was pregnant a week ago -- " _oh my God has it only been a week_? "And then everything just happened so fast after that...one minute I was telling Killian we're having a baby and we were talking about names, the next we were finding out that Zelena is coming to town and this kid -- " she gestured at Ian, "is our son from the future."

They both looked across the apartment to where Henry and Ian were ensconced on the couch together, heads bent over the book once more, looking for clues.

Mary Margaret slowly smiled, and said with vague astonishment. "Ian looks _just_ like Killian."

"I know," Emma agreed with a chuckle. She _loved_ how much Ian looked like Killian, and how much he acted like Killian. Besides being a carbon copy of his father, Ian had many of the same expressions and gestures as Killian (the quirking eyebrows, the grins and smirks, the tongue-in-cheek thing that Killian did). The more time Emma spent with him, the more of a resemblance she saw, the more she understood: Ian was Killian's mirror, a mirror that reflected all the good in Killian in a way Killian couldn't ignore.

_This kid's going to help his dad finally become the man he's supposed to be._

Two days ago, on the Jolly Roger, when Emma had told Killian she was pregnant and she saw his joy and excitement she'd _known_ ; she knew this baby, their son, was their _future_.

"You seem really happy, Emma. And Killian does too."

Emma could hear how delighted  Mary Margaret was to see her daughter (and her daughter's boyfriend) so happy.

"I am. We are," Emma said sincerely, blushing slightly. It was true. Emma couldn't remember ever having been happier; sure, Zelena was about to rain destruction down on them, but in that moment Emma was able to put aside that knowledge and take stock of the rest of her life, and realized everything was _perfect_.

"Mom," Emma said softly, "You know I love you, right? You and dad. I love you guys."

Mary Margaret nodded, but the way she was smiling and the way there were tears in her eyes again told Emma that maybe she didn't say that enough, that maybe she could share a little more of herself with them.

Without thinking, she reached out and took baby Neal's chubby little foot between her fingers and tickled it. Neal giggled and wiggled his feet at her, demanding more. Surprised, Emma starting giggling too.

-

"He seems like a good kid," David said, eyes on Ian.

"Aye," Killian agreed, unable to keep the fond smile from creeping across his face. "That he does."

He was still a little awestruck by his son -- Emma, who had met Henry for the first time when he was ten, seemed to be having a much easier time adjusting to the situation, but Killian's mind was still reeling.

As he stood at the island countertop in the kitchen with David, most prominent in his thoughts was David reaction to the news that he and Emma were naming their son Killian David...

 _"You named your son after me?"_ David had asked, and Killian hadn't missed the emotion in his voice.

_"Aye, mate, I wanted -- I **want**  my son to know he has a grandfather he can look up to."_

_"And a father. I think Killian's a good choice for his first name. It's the perfect choice, actually."_

No one had ever paid Killian a higher compliment, and that was counting the time Emma had said it wasn't possible for anyone ( _including_ Hades) to beat the handsome out of him. David was a man he greatly admired, a man whose opinion he valued above everyone's except Emma's (and now, maybe Ian's).

"Are you nervous?" David asked, and Killian know he wasn't referring to the boy sitting on the couch across the room from them, but the son growing inside Emma.

"No," Killian replied immediately, and was surprised to realize that it was true. He _knew_ Emma, he _knew_ she was going to be an amazing mother (in spite of whatever fears she was harboring). When he looked at Ian, when he saw him smile or listened to him talk, he could see how much Emma's love (how much the love of _both_ his parents, he admitted) had shaped him. Killian glanced over to where Emma sat with Mary Margaret, having a private mother-daughter conversation. He suddenly couldn't wait to see her become a mother (in one way become a mother again, but in another way become a mother for the first time). 

How had he, Killian Jones, formerly Captain Hook, get so lucky?

"Now you _really_ need to learn how to drive," David said.

"Huh?"

"You need to learn how to drive," David repeated firmly, resting his hands on the countertop and fixing Killian with his pale, blue-eyed stare. "What are you going to do when your son -- my grandson -- is sick or gets hurt, and needs to go to the hospital?"

Killian blinked, and resisted the urge to fidget under David's penetrating gaze. He hadn't thought of that, but now that he did, he realized David was correct and the urge to get behind the wheel and tame the great metal beast rose up insistently inside him. From what he had gathered so far, there were many ER visits in his future. Learning to drive wasn't just a matter of him _settling in_ any more: he needed to learn how to drive for his child's -- his children's -- safety.

"When can you give me another driving lesson, mate?" Killian asked, hoping that maybe David would say _right now_.

David grinned at him.

"Whenever you'd like," he said, and held his beer bottle out to Killian. Killian took up his own glass and clinked it against David's.

"Cheers," he said.

"Cheers," David agreed.

-

Ian and Henry were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, Henry's storybook spread over their knees.

"Can I...can I tell you something?" Ian asked, keeping his voice low. The adults were all across the apartment and seemed absorbed in their own conversations, but even so...

"Yea, sure," Henry said, keeping his eyes on the loose pages spread over his lap.

Ian followed Henry's lead and did the same. Now, if anybody cared to look over at them, it would just appear as if they were discussing something they saw in the book.

"I think this has already happened before..." Ian divulged. He was pretty sure he could trust Henry with this information -- actually, he was pretty sure Henry was the _only_ one he could trust with this information.

"What?"

"Like in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, when they went back in time and found out that all the stuff they did when they travelled back was already part of their history, you know?" Ian explained. "Buckbeak escaped, and when they went back in time they realized they were the ones that helped him escape. They weren't changing history, they were, I don't know, fulfilling it?"

"You think that all this is already part of your history?" Henry asked, brow crinkling.

"I don't know, but in the future, there's a gap in the pages," Ian explained, shuffling through the loose ones until he found the one he wanted, the one where his mom told his dad she was pregnant with him. "In between this page and the page where I'm born, there's 76 missing pages."

"Mom didn't know why," he added, "but when I asked _you_ about it, you said it was a secret."

"So, you're saying..." Henry's eyes narrowed in concentration, "You're saying that, in the future, everyone's memories were erased, somehow, except mine?"

"Yes. At least, I think so."

"Okay. So, we just have to make sure that everyone's memories are erased after you leave." Henry said firmly. "We can call it Operation -- "

" _Please_ don't say Operation Back to the Future."

"Ok," Henry laughed. "Operation Octopus?"

"Uh, not that I don't like octopi -- because I do, I frickin' _love_ them -- but that might sound kind of weird to the adults."

"Exactly," said Henry, "Weird in a way they won't question. They'll think we're just being boys."

"You're brilliant!" Ian praised.

"I know," Henry said smugly.

"Operation Octopus. Mission, to figure out how to make everyone's memories _magically_ disappear. While also not letting adults know that we know that all of this has already happened."

"It's on."

Ian grinned. This felt like back when Henry was still in college and Ian was still a kid, and they would play pirates together in the backyard.

"Oh," Ian said, remembering something suddenly. "Speaking of operations, did you know dad's _still_ never had a Cinnabon?"

" _What_?" Henry asked. "We never completed Operation Lionfish?"

"No," Ian laughed. "You're like 27 and still nagging dad to do it."

"No. I refuse to let that happen."

-

"Would anyone like some dessert?" Mary Margaret and Emma had emerged from their private conversation and returned to the kitchen.

"ME!" Henry and Ian shouted together, throwing the book they were holding onto the coffee table and racing into the kitchen.

"Hold on, hold on," David laughed. "You don't even know what we're having yet,"

"Doesn't matter," said Henry.

"It's dessert," Ian finished.

"Plus," Henry said, with a grin, "I saw the chocolate cake grandma put in the fridge."

"You know what we _should_ be having though?" Ian suggested, and when Emma raised her eyebrows in question, he answered, "Cinnabons."

Ian and Henry looked at Killian pointedly. He stared back, slightly baffled. Was a Cinnabon one of those things Henry kept begging him to try?

"Operation Lionfish can never be completed if you don't try a Cinnabon," Henry said, confirming Killian's suspicion. He had nearly forgotten Operation lionfish; so much had happened since then. He found it a little difficult to recall exactly what had been on that list he and Emma had concocted.

"And just where exactly are we going to get a Cinnabon from, kid?" Emma asked skeptically.

"I don't know," Henry shrugged. "Amazon? They deliver everything else, so why not a Cinnabon?"

"There are _Amazons_ in this world?" Killian asked, incredulous. He had particularly fond memories of the Amazons. _Fine_ women, they were, one and all. And feisty.

Emma was side-eyeing him, and Ian was grinning with his lower lip in between his teeth, looking rather like a pleased shark.

"Just, ahhh, curious," he gulped. Emma's eyes narrowed dangerously.

" _You're so dead_ ," Ian snorted.

"How about I cut that cake!" David said loudly.

"Good idea," Mary Margaret said quickly. "I'll get the plates. Oh -- um, Killian can you hold Neal for me?"

"Um," Killian said awkwardly, "Maybe Emma should hold the little one."

"No, dad, you should definitely practice. I don't want you to drop me on my head when I'm born. Or, you know," Ian smirked, glancing at Killian's hook, "stab me."

The way Ian had behaved around Killian's hook suggested that he was familiar with it, and Killian had started to believe that maybe what he'd seen in the vision of the future hadn't been entirely accurate, that maybe the having two flesh-and-blood hands to hold his children with part was just a fantasy the unicorn horn had thrown in out of sympathy for the old crippled pirate. Ian's comment, however, drew his thoughts back to it.

He was about to ask about it, but Neal was abruptly thrust into his arms, and all his concentration was diverted to not maiming the baby (especially not in front of the baby's father). When he finally felt as if he was _safely_ cradling the baby, he tried to relax into it, telling himself that he'd better get used to it because this would be _his_ life shortly. Very soon he would have a son of his own. Neal looked up at Killian quietly, curiously, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that the man nervously clutching him did so like he was holding a live grenade, and that he also had a weapon for a hand. Neal had the same greenish eyes as Emma, which Killian had never noticed before.

It seemed Ian took after his father in terms of appearance, but maybe Jackie would look like her mother...Killian hoped she would. That sort of information wouldn't jeopardize the future, would it? Maybe he could ask...

He glanced up at Ian, considering it, but saw the strange expression on his son's face.

"It's called a baby," Killian said, advancing on Ian, wondering if the boy had the same phobia of babies that he seemed to have about clowns. Having a son was definitely worth it, if only to tease him mercilessly.

"I _know_ what a baby is," Ian retorted, standing his ground, fists clenched at his sides. "It's just that _that_ baby is Neal. It's weird seeing Neal as a baby."

David glanced up from the cake, smiling.

"Is it going to be weird to see _Rowan_ as a baby?" Killian asked wickedly.

Ian suddenly looked horrified.

"Rowan?" Mary Margaret interjected curiously.

"Ian here has a little crush," Killian said smugly.

Ian's face burned red. Killian bounced Neal up and down a little so that he gurgled happily.

Ian's eyes snapped to Neal. "Don't _you_ laugh at me, too. _You_ like Alexandra."

"Cinderella's daughter?" Mary Margaret gasped in surprise, smiling excitedly.

"Please don't ever tell Neal I told you that," Ian said in a hushed voice, eyes suddenly wide. "He'll hide all my textbooks again."

"He'll do _what_?" David and Mary Margaret asked together.

Ian nodded. "It took me three days to find them, and I got detention every day I didn't have my homework, which was every day I didn't have my textbooks."

"Where were they?"

"On the roof of the school," Ian said darkly. "And after I found them, I got another week's worth of detention for being on the school roof."

Killian smirked at David and Mary Margaret's outraged faces.

_Looks like even the son of Snow White and Prince Charming gets up to some mischief. Now neither of them can say a bloody thing when Ian gets into trouble. Which will, without a doubt, happen frequently._

He looked down at baby Neal, and in a sort of sing-song voice he'd heard David use, asked, "Is that true, lad, did you do all that?"

Neal beamed up at him and giggled.

-

The cake was sliced, the table was set for dessert, and baby Neal was back in Mary Margaret's arms, who was looking at her son as if seeing him truly for the first time. Trying not to look too smug, Killian helped David dole out the chocolate cake. Henry and Ian both received enormous slices, which they eyed eagerly but were polite enough not to devour until everyone else had received theirs. Killian came around the table to Emma's seat, leaned down and kissed her cheek, then placed a plate in front of her. Emma raised an eyebrow at the extra-small slice of cake on it.

"That had better be for baby Neal..." she said.

"Um..."

"Killian," Emma said, voice deadly quiet. "I'm pregnant. I don't care what those pamphlets you read said, I swear to God, if you try telling me I can't have chocolate cake, I will stab you with your own hook."

With satisfaction, Emma saw Killian blanch.

" _Killian_ ," said David knowingly in Killian's ear. "I think you'd better listen to her."

"Aye," Killian said a little weakly, and promptly replaced what was in front of Emma with a proper pregnant-lady sized portion of chocolate cake.

"Thank you," Emma said primly, taking up her fork. Everyone took that as the signal that it was safe to consume their desserts.

After a about ten minutes, when everyone was finished or mostly finished with their cake, Henry announced, "Ok, so Ian and I were talking, and we think we need to figure out how to keep Ian being here from messing up the future."

Emma thought it sounded rehearsed, but kept that thought to herself.

"Keep him hidden on the Jolly Roger?" Killian asked brightly.

"I am _not_ ," said Ian hotly, glaring, " _hiding_ on the Jolly Roger."

"What if you guys all took a memory potion after Ian leaves?" Henry suggested.

Henry, back at it again with the good ideas. Rumplestiltskin had taken a memory potion to preserve his own timeline, after her and Killian had escaped his vault through a portal back to their own time.

"But wouldn't that erase _everything_?" Mary Margaret asked. "Including the memory of the reason we took the potion in the first place? We'd be missing our memories but wouldn't know why...and usually, when our memories go missing, it's because something bad is happening."

"You're right," Emma huffed, disappointed. For a moment there, she'd almost believed they'd had it all figured out, but she should have known better. Her and her family had a rather unfortunate history with memory potions; they'd be likely to believe their memories had been taken forcefully and go looking for the culprit.

They were all silent for a time.

"What if...what if we modified the memory potion? Made it so that it only erased memories of Ian?" Henry said, surprising everyone again.

"How would we do that?" Killian asked, looking to Emma.

"What if we used one of his hairs, or something?" she suggested.

Killian looked skeptical, and a little disgusted.

"I don't know!" Emma said defensively. "I'm just--I don't know anything about magic! I'm making this up as I go along! Mostly based on what I learned from Harry Potter!"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter, dad," Ian said solemnly. "One of the greatest wizards who ever lived."

"He was a true hero," Henry intoned.

"I've never heard of him," Killian said. "Emma, have you met him?"

"Mom's never told you about Harry Potter?" Ian asked, shocked. Both he and Henry wore identical looks of mock outrage. Killian looked back and forth between them, embarrassed.

Emma bit the insides of her lips to keep from laughing.

"Harry Potter defeated the greatest evil of all time. He was only 17 years old."

"He won the TriWizard Tournament when he was 14."

"He was the youngest Seeker in 100 years."

"And the youngest Auror ever."

"He was a greater wizard even," said Ian with a knowing grin, "Than Marty McFly."

Comprehension slowly dawned on Killian's face.

"Wait, Harry Potter is just another movie character, isn't he?"

Henry and Ian started laughing hysterically while Killian just glowered.

"Harry Potter is a book," Emma said out of the corner of her mouth. She knew sometimes Killian felt completely out of his depth when confronted with pop culture references. "And a movie. We'll watch it."

"Thank you, Swan," Killian sighed gratefully, and then, "I'm sorry I laughed earlier, at the station."

_Oh, you mean when my sons were comparing the locations of their conceptions in front of Regina???_

"Apology accepted," she said, and then, because she couldn't stay mad at him, threw him a warm smile.

Emma's phone buzzed suddenly from her pocket.

"Regina wants us to meet her at the barn bright and early tomorrow," she said, after she had read the message and stowed the phone back in her pocket. "She says she has a plan."

"Ugh," Ian grumbled, rubbing at his eyes, "How early is bright and early?"

"Don't worry, kid, we'll make sure you get your beauty sleep,"

"Mom," Ian said seriously. "Have you _seen_ me? I don't _need_ beauty sleep."

Killian barked a laugh.

"Yep," Mary Margaret said, putting her fork down with a decisive clang as if it was a judge's gavel. "He's definitely Killian's son."

Ian and Killian just grinned proudly at each other from across the table, and Emma couldn't help but smile too.

-

"They're both asleep," Killian said tiredly, closing his and Emma's bedroom door behind him. He stifled a yawn with his fist, staggered over to the bed, shedding vest, shirt, and jeans along the way, and collapsed upon it.

"Sex, or sleep?" Emma asked slyly.

"I hate myself for saying this, but sleep." Killian sighed, voice muffled by his pillow. "You're an evil woman, Swan."

Emma chuckled, turned off the lamp on the bedside table, and snuggled into him, back against his chest. He pressed close to her from behind, amused with himself. It had been a long, long time since he'd been so exhausted he couldn't even gain an erection when a woman's rear end was pressed firmly against his cock.

"When's the doctor's appointment?" he asked, arm snaking over her hip so he could rest his hand over her belly.

"Next Tuesday," Emma answered quietly, both her hands pressed over his.

"I can't wait to see little Killian," he breathed, and placed a sleepy kiss on the back of her neck.

"Me either," she agreed, and then they were both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Charming/Killian bonding coming, more Henry/Ian bonding coming, and more Emma and Killian kissy-kissy/touchy-touchy coming (I tried to do it all in this chapter but i just couldn't make it all fit).


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me SO LONG to write and for NO REASON and I am SO MAD! I hope you all enjoy it more than I do because I hate it and I hope it dies. 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr @ peglegsjones, btw

It was Saturday morning, and Emma and Ian were late to meet Regina.

"Remind me again why I have to be awake at the ass-crack of dawn?" Ian grumbled. He was hunkered down grumpily in the passenger seat beside her, clutching his hot chocolate like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

" _We_ have to be awake because Regina has a plan, and since Regina knows more about magic than either of us, we're going to do exactly what she says," Emma told him, trying not to sound equally cranky (which she was, because it was far too early, and all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed with Killian and sleep for another four hours).

"Yea, but why do _I_ have to go? Why can't I go driving with dad and grandpa and Henry?"

"Because Regina _also_ said the plan requires both of us. So, again, _we're going_."

"Fine," Ian said. "But this sucks balls and I'm going to complain the whole time."

"You wouldn't be a teenager if you didn't," Emma muttered, but she smiled to herself. Truthfully she was happy he was complaining, because one of them should be able to, and since she was the adult in the situation and she _couldn't_ complain (much as she wanted to), Ian may as well enjoy himself. Plus, there was something so _mundane_ about having her teenager bitch and moan about being awake at 7am that Emma could almost imagine they weren't all about to plunge into another crisis.

_Or are we technically already in it?_

In spite of his promises to complain, Ian was silent the rest of the drive. Emma kept glancing at him to ensure he was awake, and every time found him glaring fixedly forward, as if the windshield was responsible for him having to be out of bed at such an unreasonable hour and for such an unsatisfactory reason.

When they reached the farm Emma saw that Regina had already arrived and that her car was empty, meaning she must be waiting for them in the barn. Emma parked the bug next to the Benz, killed the engine, and turned to Ian.

"Okay, this is it," Emma said. "Get it all out now, because once we're out of this car you are on your best behavior. And _don't_ ," she warned, "pretend like you don't know what I mean."

For a moment Ian looked like he might argue (he certainly wore a very familiar frown), but then he threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a long, loud, "UUUUUUUUGH" that carried on and on for nearly a full minute.

"Better?" Emma asked, when he was quiet once more.

"Yep," Ian answered, suddenly chipper. "Let's go."

"Okay," she said, shaking her head in amusement, wondering if Ian's (little Killian's) pouts would always be so easily banished. "Oh -- leave your hot chocolate in the car. I don't want Regina to know we wasted time stopping at Granny's for breakfast."

-

"You're late," Regina greeted when her and Ian reached the shelter of the barn.

Ian snorted, but kept his mouth shut.

"What's all this?" Emma asked, jerking her chin at the time portal. It looked exactly the same as it had the last time she'd seen it (scorched and covered with dirt), except for the double ring of symbols written in chalk on the ground surrounding it.  

"Are you familiar with devil's traps?"

"That's _not_ a devil's trap," Ian said, matter-of-factly. "That's not going to hold anything."

"You're right," Regina said, half-suspicious, half-impressed. "I modified it."

"You modified it _a lot_ ," Ian said, squinting downwards at Regina's handiwork.

Emma squinted too, but it just looked like squiggles to her. She could, however, _feel_ the magic oozing from the circle, and it made her skin crawl.

"What's it going to do?" she asked, keeping an eye on Ian. He was circling the portal, occasionally squatting to examine some of the symbols closer. It was like watching a toddler circle a swimming pool full of sharks.

"It's going to trap the time portal," Regina answered, then, "Well, in a way..."

Ian looked up questioningly. Emma could see the curiosity in his blue eyes.

_This isn't scary for him. This is...normal._

Emma wasn't sure if she was proud of him or disheartened that, apparently, the life she and Killian provided for him consisted of magic and danger and dangerous magic.

Or both.

_Both. Definitely both. The second one's not his fault._

The instinct to _run_ was back.

_Maybe it's time to reconsider packing up the bug and getting the hell out of Storybrooke._

Could you use a unicorn horn twice? It sounded as if Killian had seen a lot more than Emma had. She wanted to look again, to see if things really did turn out okay, if her and Killian's children were safe and happy...

As she stood there, absorbed in her own worrying, Regina and Ian's voices a distant buzz in her ears, she was trying not to look at the time portal itself, but her eyes were drawn to it as if magnetized. Looking at it made her feel jittery, as if her attention would activate it and bring Zelena to them...

Which, actually, sort of gave Emma an idea.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and cleared her mind. She blocked out Regina and Ian's conversation, pushed away her apprehension about raising Ian (and Jackie) in this place, and focused on the time portal. When she opened her eyes again, there was something shimmering in front of her: a narrow, vertical slit hung in the air over the portal only a few feet away, and through it Emma could see a orange-yellow swirl of energy she recognized.

_Could it really be this easy?_

Cautiously, she reached out, not with her hand, but with her magic, probing the edges of the opening.

"Mom, stop!" Ian shouted, at the same time Regina yelled, "Emma!"

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to find Ian and Regina poised to tackle her.

"There's something there," she said urgently, pointing. Her hand was shaking.

"It's the tear," Ian said.

"I think I can open it -- "

" _You can't_ ," Ian scowled, and it was a Killian scowl; Emma almost felt like Killian himself was there, warning her to be _careful_. "If it was that easy, don't you think I would have told you?"

"But it's _right there!_ "

"Ian's right," Regina cut in. "There's no telling what could happen to you once your magic touches the tear."

"It would destroy you," Ian added quietly, and Emma saw, hidden in the scowl, the little crease of worry between his eyebrows. "I saw what it did to Zelena. It almost killed her."

"Yes, I'm curious about the almost killing Zelena part. How exactly _did_ my sister survive?" Regina's tone was clinical, but Emma heard the real question: _How close is my sister to dying, and what do I have to do to finish the job?_

"Zelena had 13 years to study time travel -- I'm assuming with Merlin's books, since apparently she spent time in Camelot," Ian said, shrugging. "She knew that there was a tear, and she knew that pumping magic into it would open it wide enough to activate the time portal again. She's powerful," he finished quietly. "Stronger than either of you."

A cloud must have passed before the sun, because the barn was suddenly plunged into a deeper semi-darkness, adding extra menace to Ian's words. Emma suppressed a shiver.

All Emma wanted to do was get Ian safely home, away from all this. She wanted Ian back in future her and Killian's arms, where he belonged.

What would her other self say if she knew Emma was thinking of running away, of changing the way her children had grown up -- of changing _them_.

_Over my (her) dead body._

_There's no running away from Storybrooke:_ _this is where you belong, and where your children belong._

_So deal with it._

"Okay. How are we going to get Ian back to the future?"

"As I was telling Ian before when you were apparently not listening," Regina said impatiently, "the trap is going to keep the time portal open, once its activated."

"You're saying that when Zelena arrives, the spell -- trap, whatever -- is going to keep the time portal from closing?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, that's _exactly_ what I said. Three times, now, in fact."

"So Ian will be able to go home?"

" _Yes_."

"You're _sure_?"

Regina convulsed slightly as she put a leash on her fury.

"Yes, Emma, this will work." she said, confidently and with finality.

Emma just nodded. She believed Regina, but she knew better than to put all her faith in magic. Emma grew up in the _real world_ , the land without magic, and although she'd accepted her powers, embraced them, even, as a rule she still didn't trust magic in general.

_Because these things always work until they don't, so have a backup plan._

"What are these extra bits for?" Ian interrupted, waving his hand at the smaller circles drawn at each of the four points of the time portal, the points where Zelena had once placed dishes to hold the special ingredients to activate the time portal in the first place, including newborn Neal.

"You know, you're smarter than you look," Regina said, narrowing her eyes at Ian. "Who taught you magic?"

"You did," Ian grinned disarmingly.

"Well, I guess that explains it then," Regina said haughtily, nose in the air. "The 'extra bits' are going to seal the portal -- or the tear, rather -- for good once you pass through it."

"Why not just rig the time portal so that the next time its activated the whole barn just explodes or something?" Ian blurted. "Or just do the thing to seal the tear right now, so Zelena can never get out?"

"Well, I _could_. I could do both of those things. But then your way home would also be destroyed, correct?"

"Yea, I guess," Ian conceded.

Emma was following Regina's plan so far, there was just one thing she wasn't clear on: "What do you need from us? You seem to have everything figured out."

"What I need from you is some blood," Regina answered simply.

"Uh, what?" Emma and Ian both asked.

"We need the blood of a light magic user woven into the trap to protect it from Zelena's dark magic, so that she won't be able to destroy it before Ian can get through the portal."

"Whose blood were you planning on using?" Emma asked apprehensively.

"Ian's," Regina replied.

"Mm," Emma responded. She didn't particularly like the idea. She only knew a little bit about blood magic -- enough to know that it wouldn't hurt Ian; but she couldn't help feeling as if it was exposing him, in some way. "Can't you just use mine?"

"No, you're pregnant."

"Still don't understand why that means you can't use my blood instead of Ian's."

Regina opened her mouth to answer, irritation clear on her face, but Ian spoke first.

"You're pregnant with me and I have magic, so my magic's donking up your magic. If we used your blood for the spell, your donked up magic would just donk up the spell."

"Thank you," Emma said gratefully to Ian.

_Now that's the sort of explanation I can understand. Direct, not condescending, has the word 'donking' in it...maybe I should have Ian teach me magic._

"Yes, well," Regina cleared her throat, "Let's get this over with. Emma, why don't you...sit down and rest?"

_Emma, get out of our way._

Suppressing an eye roll, Emma wandered over to the side of the barn and found a comfy-looking bale of straw to sit on and watch Ian and Regina work from.

-

"Hey," Emma said as her, Ian, and Regina were walking back to their cars. "When did you have time to figure all this stuff out?"

She expected to receive a disdainful sneer for calling Regina's elaborate trap 'stuff', but Regina just looked exhausted.

"After I talked to Robin yesterday and told him what was going on, I went to my vault to do some research."

_And apparently didn't get any sleep._

"Oh," Emma felt slightly guilty that, while Regina was plotting how to get Ian home safe and sound, she had been enjoying chocolate cake with her family. "Thank you, Regina."

"You're welcome," Regina replied, and Emma saw her sincere smile, tired as it was.

"Is there anything we should be doing?" Emma asked, determined not to be useless.

"Well, I'm also looking into protective spells. I want to put some around several key locations in Storybrooke. I've been trying to come up with one that's similar to but stronger than the one you put around your mother's hospital room the first time Zelena tried to steal a baby. I think I'm close to a solution."

"And we can help how...?"

"Just make sure this one gets his rest," Regina said, indicating Ian.

Ian stopped short. "Me? Why?"

"Because _you're_ the one who's going to be casting the protective wards."

" _Mother fu_ \-- "

" _Language!_ " Emma barked, making Ian jump and look around for Killian, which was _immensely_ satisfying.

-

"That wasn't so bad," Henry said, as he and Killian waved goodbye to David from the front porch of Granny's.

Killian opened the door for Henry, and followed him through. He thought the lad was being rather generous in his assessment of Killian's driving. He had kept the car on the road this time, but he was far from a true mastery of the vehicle. Even so, having Henry along had been quite enjoyable, and Killian thought his driving had improved purely because the boy was present; Henry was just so indomitably cheerful that it was impossible to be nervous.

"Well, not too bad except for almost hitting Will Scarlet," Henry corrected himself.

 _That wasn't a mistake, lad_.

Killian immediately regretted his malicious thought. He was still ashamed of how he had let his temper get the better of him in his previous encounters with Will, and now that he was more clear-headed than before (before when he had been more than a little preoccupied by how he had basically fucked himself in his own ass on that deal with the crocodile) he could see that Will Scarlet wasn't merely a louse. Will Scarlet was a man with regrets, and he was trying to drown his sorrows in whiskey.

Killian only knew this because he had been just like him, once. Only, of course, his drink of choice had been rum.

He and Henry took seats across from each other at one of the booths, and the waitress promptly placed two menus, one coffee, and one hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on the table. Killian skimmed the menu, and settled on the shepherd's pie while Henry, predictably, chose the cheeseburger and onion rings.

After the waitress had taken their orders and their menus, Henry folded his hands on the table and asked, in a businesslike manner, "So, are you and my mom going to get married now?"

Killian choked on his coffee.

"Wh-what?" he spluttered.

"You know, because mom's pregnant. Ian said you guys were married in the future. I assumed you'd get married _now_ , because of the baby."

Killian mopped the coffee from his favorite vest with a series of napkins, playing for time. He hadn't often dared to allow himself to imagine marrying Emma -- loving her and being loved by her was all he truly needed. He may be old-fashioned in some ways, but marriage wasn't something he believed necessary to express love and commitment. Plus, Emma herself wasn't exactly traditional, so he'd believed marriage was something that didn't interest her.

Although, he had to admit to himself now, they'd never discussed it, so he truthfully couldn't say whether it was something she wanted or not. And according to Ian's version of the future, marriage _was_ something she wanted.

"Henry," he finally said. "When -- _if_ \-- your mother and I marry, it will be because _we_ want to, and because we're ready. _Not_ just because she's pregnant. I'm not _that_ old-fashioned."

" _Grandpa David_ is that old-fashioned," Henry grinned slyly.

"I -- _ahhhhhh_ ," Killian said, realizing exactly what Henry was implying. "Yes, well...yes."

The intensity of David's reaction to Emma's pregnancy had certainly taken Killian by surprise, but even so, he had thought David was rather pleased (especially after he found out Ian was the charming -- yes, _charming_ \-- lad he'd met the previous day). Killian didn't _think_ David would try to force Killian and Emma to marry, but he'd been wrong before (once, maybe, or perhaps twice).

"I think David, erm, approves of the situation," he said lightly, and took a sip of his coffee to hide his uncertainty.

An absurd possibility occurred to him.

_Perhaps David suggested teaching me how to drive in the woods because he was hoping to murder me and dispose of my body there? And only Henry's presence today saved me..._

Killian shook himself. _That's ridiculous, mate._ _David can't murder you: you're the father of his unborn grandson._

Satisfied that he was safe, he returned his attention to Henry and saw that, to his relief, the boy also seemed satisfied.

"Have you gotten mom anything for Christmas yet?"

The sudden change in topic threw Killian.

"Pardon?"

"You know, _Christmas_ ," Henry said.

Killian wondered how many years he would have to live in this world before everyone stopped assuming he didn't have a clue.

"Yes, your mother explained about Christmas," Killian said, "But she said I shouldn't get her anything."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Of course that's what she _said._ Adults always say that. You're supposed to get her something anyway."

"That's confusing," Killian said.

"Adults _are_ confusing," Henry agreed. "I don't get why you can't all just admit that you want presents, like us kids do. Oh, and just so you know, _I_ want the new Batman game for Xbox."

"I don't know what that is, but I'll tell your mother," Killian laughed.

"You should get Ian something, too," Henry added thoughtfully. "Oh, and the baby! Have you gotten the baby anything yet?"

Killian felt his heart melt, and he suddenly found himself saying some things he'd been thinking for the past few days but hadn't known how to express.

"You know your mother still loves you, no matter what, right?"

"I'm not a kid," Henry rolled his eyes. "I know mom will always love me."

"And I as well," Killian added softly, and meant it. With every fiber of his being, _he meant it_. Henry was more to him than just Emma's boy. "The baby changes nothing. I'll always consider you as a son."

That seemed to take Henry by surprise. His mouth dropped open, his eyes grew round as dubloons, and his cheeks flushed red.

"I -- thank you," Henry stuttered, looking down. Killian, smiling gently, busied himself with looking out the window while Henry recovered. He knew Henry understood, knew Henry heard the sincerity in Killian's voice, and there was no reason to elaborate and embarrass the boy further.

"I really like having you around, Killian," Henry said, after a while.

"Thanks, lad," Killian grinned.

It was more than Killian could have ever hoped for. He didn't need for Henry to call him 'dad', he didn't need for Henry to say 'I love you', he just needed Henry to know that Killian cared and would always be there for him, no matter what.

"And I'm really happy you and mom are having a baby," Henry said.

Killian couldn't contain his giddy smile, or the dizzying rush of excitement that followed.

_Emma's having a baby, I'm going to be a father, and the three of us and Henry are going to be a family._

_That little blonde hellion is mine. Mine and Emma's._

He pictured Ian's face: the smirk that was Killian's, the determined frown that was Emma's, and he wished Ian was there beside him because all Killian wanted to do was hug the boy.

Hug the boy, and then toss him into a convenient time portal so he'd be safe from Zelena.

"You're going to be a big brother," Killian told Henry, when he had himself under control. "Are you ready for that responsibility?"

_You have to help guide Ian, show him the things I can't._

"I think I can handle it," Henry smiled, and then said smugly, "I already know what I'm getting the baby for Christmas."

"Oh, what's that?"

"It's a surprise!"

"Yes, but you can tell _me_ , lad. _I_ won't tell the baby," he cajoled, and threw in a wink for good measure.

Killian saw the moment the boy caved, but just as Henry was about to spill the beans, so to speak, the door opened and Ian arrived. He flopped down into the seat next to Killian.

"Did you guys order yet? I'm _starving_."

Killian threw his arm around Ian's shoulders and pulled the boy against his side.

"What's this for?" Ian huffed, cocking an eyebrow at him, but Killian saw his pleased little smile, the pleased little smile that said he was used to displays of affection from his father, and although he was a teenager and it was his duty to look unwilling, he secretly enjoyed it.

Killian shrugged. "Just missed you lad, that's all," he said, and saw Ian's smile grow into a full-out grin.

The door opened again, and Regina and Emma walked in. Emma slid into the booth next to Henry, but Regina remained standing.

"Henry, when you're finished with lunch, Emma's going to drop you off back at home," she informed him.

"But _mom_ ," Henry pleaded, and threw a pointed look at Ian, "I want to stay here."

Regina leveled her gaze at Henry and arced one perfect eyebrow.

"Henry Daniel Mills, you have a history test on Monday to study for and a science project due Tuesday, and I know for a fact that you haven't started, so you're coming home or you can spend the rest of December grounded."

Killian felt Ian shrink slightly against him, and he sympathized.

_I feel the same way, lad._

"I'll come home after lunch," Henry droned.

Regina was about to leave, but turned back.

"I forgot to mention that we're having a special dinner tomorrow night, for Rowan," Regina said, "A...naming ceremony, of sorts."

"We'll be there," Emma said with a warm smile.

"We'd be delighted to come, wouldn't we, Ian?" Killian said jovially, giving Ian's shoulders a little shake.

"Yep," he said hoarsely. "Delighted."

-

Ian begged Killian to make breakfast for dinner, and he happily obliged. It turned out his breakfast-for-dinners were famous in the Jones house ('Jones house' gave him a little jolt of pleasure).  

After they ate, Ian dragged them into the den to watch a movie called The Mighty Ducks.

"This is hockey?" Killian asked. "I'm sorry, lad, but I don't think you're going to be playing that."

"What? Why?"

"Well, for starters, it's played on knife-shoes -- "

"Dad," Ian said seriously, "Hockey is my one True Love. Nothing can keep us apart."

"True Love, eh? What about Rowan?"

"Hockey," Ian said firmly, with Emma's stubborn (had he called it determined, earlier?) frown, and turned back to the screen.

Emma smirked at him over Ian's head.

-

Much later that night, Killian checked on Ian in Henry's bedroom. It seemed that it was Killian's job, as Ian's father, to ensure the boy was sleeping safely. Killian quite liked it.

On his way back to his and Emma's bedroom, he stopped in the doorway of the nursery. It was still bare, but Killian could picture perfectly the only detail about the nursery that he had absorbed from his vision: the crib. He smiled to himself. He couldn't wait for Emma to see it. Was it too early to check in on Marco? It had only been two days, so likely yes.

Emma emerged from their bedroom, but instead of wearing pajamas she was back in her jeans and red leather jacket, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Will Scarlet," she sighed. "I just got a call from my dad who just got a call from The Rabbit Hole saying that Will needs to be removed from the premises immediately."

Killian bit his tongue to keep from cursing. He needed to set a good example for his son (his son who already seemed proficient in cursing...).

"When will you be back?" he asked instead.

"An hour or two," she answered.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, someone needs to stay with Ian."

Killian nodded.

Emma slid her arms around his waist, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Her lips were warm and inviting against his, and he immediately felt a stirring below. He let his hand drift to Emma's rear end and pulled her hips hard against his.

"Later," she whispered against his lips, and when she pulled away Killian saw the promise in her eyes.

"I'll be waiting, Swan," he growled.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter! That one was a struggle (this one was too, ugh), and it really helps let me know that the struggle wasn't for nothing! Also, please let me know if I make any mistakes or if there are any inconsistencies (that's one of my biggest fears). 
> 
> And, for reference, I'm going with the assumption that Neal is around 9 months old , and Rowan is 1 month old. I don't really understand the OUAT timeline sometimes, so I'm just guessing (I also want Neal to be one grade older than Ian and Rowan, so there's that...). 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Can I just wait in the car?" Ian was eyeing Regina's house with dread.

"You'll be fine," Emma assured him, although what she _really_ wanted to say was: "Yes, and I'll stay with you. Killian, we'll see you in three hours. Let us know how dinner was."

The three of them piled out of the car and started up the front walkway, Killian carrying the cupcakes Emma had baked for the occasion. When Emma had asked if Regina wanted her to bring anything, Regina had replied simply, "A dessert." Emma wasn't sure what sort of dessert was appropriate for a naming ceremony, but she assumed naming ceremonies were similar to birthday parties, and cupcakes always went down well at birthday parties. Plus, she didn't think Regina would appreciate rum brownies (Killian, however, had argued vehemently in favor of them).

Halfway to the door, Ian stopped and said, "Hey, dad, can I talk to you really quick?"

"Of course, lad," Killian answered, bemused.

Curious, but not wanting to intrude on whatever sort of father-son moment was about to take place, Emma continued on up the walkway to the front door. She walked slowly, however, as slowly as she could without it being suspicious, and heard Ian ask, "Dad, can you _promise_ not to say anything about me liking Rowan?"

"Aye, I promise," Killian said solemnly. "On the life of my unborn child, I promise."

"I'm _serious_ , dad..."

And then Emma was out of earshot. She let herself in the front door -- because it was cold and dark outside and she was wearing a skirt, and also because it was one minute before Regina had said to be there, and Emma dearly wanted to be able to say she was _early_.

"Hello!" Emma called when she entered. All the lights in the house seemed to be on, but no one was around.

"We're in here!" Mary Margaret called back from the kitchen.

"Be there in a minute!"

She removed her coat and hung it next to the others, then took a moment to examine her hair and makeup in the mirror on the wall opposite the coat rack. Satisfied that everything was still in place, she was about to go on ahead to the kitchen without Killian and Ian when they arrived. Killian looked a little stunned.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom really quick," Ian said, threw his coat haphazardly on top of Emma's, then pelted away up the stairs and around the corner.

"What was that all about?" she whispered to Killian.

"The boy blackmailed me, Swan!" he hissed. "Our son just _blackmailed_ me!"

_That's what you get for pushing him..._

Emma resisted the urge to smirk in his face.

Killian was still shaking his head incredulously as he shrugged out of his jacket -- the only bit of black leather on him tonight; he was wearing the outfit he'd worn for their date last week, the one Henry had picked out for him. Emma hadn't lied when she'd said she preferred the vest and skull necklace (it was quintessentially Killian, after all) but he looked so startlingly handsome in these _other_ clothes that Emma couldn't keep herself from running her hands up his arms, feeling the soft, soft fabric of the thick black pullover.

Killian stilled when he felt her hands on him, and stood patiently while she smoothed the sweater over his chest, then straightened the stiff collar of his grey-and-red checked shirt, fingertips brushing his neck. A soft smile crept over his face as her hands travelled upwards, passing gently over his neatly trimmed beard -- more actual beard than stubble, now -- and her fingers tangled in his hair. It was still longish, and Emma couldn't bring herself to suggest that he get it trimmed.

"Mmm," he hummed, eyes half-closed.

There was something different about his whole appearance, something softer, more relaxed -- and it wasn't just the clothes. He was looking more and more like the Killian she'd seen in her visions of the future, he looked like a man who had found happiness. He had been changing subtly for a while now, and her pregnancy seemed to have accelerated those changes.

"I love you," she said quietly. She couldn't look at him without thinking those three words.

"I love you too, Emma," he said, and dipped his head to kiss her, a tender kiss that nevertheless lit a fire in her belly.

"Hey! Are you two going to stand there and kiss all night or are we going to party?"

Ian had returned. Emma was suddenly certain that _his_ superpower was interrupting private moments between his parents at just the right second.

" _Kiss_ ," Killian rumbled. "You go on ahead, lad. We'll join you shortly."

"Oh -- take the cupcakes with you!" Emma added.

Ian made a face, but obeyed. Killian waited until Ian was down the hallway before he put his lips to her ear and asked, "Shall we go see if Regina has any empty rooms upstairs?"

His warm breath tickled her skin, and Emma shivered. She knew Killian was joking, but she had to admit she was a little (a lot) tempted. His hand was travelling along her side, over her hip, down her thigh, lower and lower until his fingers found her bare skin. Her breath caught as he brought his hand back upwards slowly, this time beneath the fabric of her skirt.

"Emma! Killian! Are you coming?"

Killian's hand disappeared from her thigh.

"Yes!" Emma answered quickly, stepping away from Killian and straightening her skirt.

_I feel like a teenager right now, trying to kiss my boyfriend and maybe get a little 2nd-base action while my parents are in the other room._

"Give us a moment, love," Killian grunted, adjusting himself with a pained expression.

"Want some help with that?" she asked slyly, trailing one finger down the front of his jeans, feeling the hard bulge beneath.

"No, no thank you, Swan," he said, jerking his hips out of her reach. "Any more of that and we really will need to find an empty room. When I get you home tonight..."

-

When Emma and Killian finally wandered into the kitchen, they found Regina, Mary Margaret, David, and Ian gathered around the small island countertop. Mary Margaret was holding baby Neal, who was falling half out of her arms trying to forcibly remove David's arm from around Ian's shoulders. David and Ian were both ignoring Neal's efforts in favor of giving Emma and Killian identical judgmental stares.

_Sheriff and Deputy Sheriff of the No-Making-Out Police._

Emma purposely avoided their eyes and said, "Where's everyone else?"

Regina glanced up from the apples she was slicing and said, "Henry's upstairs, finishing his homework. Robin took Roland out to pick up the cake. The Merry Men are _late_ , as usual."

"Where's the little lady of honor?" Killian asked. Emma smiled; being a father-to-be had certainly made Killian more fond of infants. She only wished she could say the same about herself.

"The _little lady_ ," Regina said with her own small smile, "is taking a pre-dinner nap."

"Tough life," David chuckled. Neal, frustrated with his failure to extract his father from the strange interloper he had his arm around, resorted to slapping Ian around the head.

Ian flinched. "Agh! Hey!"

"Dadadada da dada! Da!" Neal babbled back, tiny face screwed up in irritation.

"Neal!" Mary Margaret chided. "That's your -- um, that's your nephew!"

"Yea, I'm your nephew," Ian said, as Neal continued to smack him in the face.

"David, you'd better take him before he puts out one of Ian's eyes," Mary Margaret said, and started handing Neal over to David.

"Here, I've got him," Emma said, swooping in and snatching her brother. Neal, startled, stared up at her. Emma settled him on her hip, and smiled at him, hoping he would just smile back and stop looking so freaked out.

_Remember me, kid? I'm your sister. And that was my son you were assaulting, so consider this baby-jail. And how do we deal with criminals in baby-jail? We tickle them._

Emma tickled Neal's foot with her free hand and he cracked a smile and let out a bubbly little giggle.

_Ok, not so bad. Just keep him happy._

Emma saw Killian and her mom beaming at her as she bounced Neal and he continued to chirp happily in her arms.

_President and Vice President of the Emma Holding Babies Fan Club._

She felt a flush creep up her neck.

"Ian, why don't you go see if Henry's done with his homework?" Emma said, determinedly not looking at either Killian or Mary Margaret, trying to pretend like everything was normal. Ian perked up at her suggestion, and began edging towards the doorway. One side of his face was still pink where Neal had been hitting him (Emma had a feeling there was going to be plenty more of that in the future).

Regina opened her mouth to object, but Emma cut her off.

"Did you get my cupcakes?" she asked, and Ian made his escape.

"Yes," Regina answered, blinking at Emma twice before returning her attention to the apple turnovers. "They were very, um, nice."

_Translation: they're shit and I wish you hadn't brought them._

The only thing keeping Emma from snapping back that if you didn't specify what kind of dessert you wanted then you'd better damned well be happy with what you got was Mary Margaret's voice in her head chiming that babies could read your emotions in your tone of voice. Instead, she said to Neal, "Well, if no one eats them then we'll just have to feed them all to _you_. We'll get you all sugared up for mom and dad, then the three of you can stay up _all night!_ "

Neal looked up from his thoughtful examination of her hair and giggled.

"Emma," Mary Margaret said seriously. "If you do that, he's sleeping over at your house."

"For a week," David added.

-

Robin arrived while her and Killian were setting the table.  

"Hi, Emma!" Roland greeted, running into the dining room and hugging her around the legs.

"Hey, kid," she said, and ruffled his hair.

"Emma! Killian! Congratulations!" Robin said, bending to place a kiss on Emma's cheek and then clasping hands with Killian.

"Thanks, mate," Killian said, grinning.

"Happy baby!" Roland squeaked.

"It's not like 'Happy Birthday', Roland," Robin chuckled. "When someone's having a baby you say 'congratulations'."

"Oh. Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Emma replied, smiling. Roland was too cute. He gave Emma's legs one more squeeze before running from the room (probably to track down the cake he and his father had just brought home and make sure it was safe, maybe ask if he could have a little taste of the frosting...Emma wondered if Roland's sweet demeanor ever melted Regina's resolve).

"How are you feeling?" Robin asked. Emma was frozen for a moment, surprised by his question, but then she realized that Robin had been there with Marian while she was pregnant with Roland, and then again for Zelena's (more unconventional) pregnancy.

"Good, actually," Emma said, and it was mostly true. The period of nausea that had started this whole thing had been brief, only lasting a few days before disappearing completely. She could even smell grilled cheeses again without feeling ill. It had been the same way when she had been pregnant with Henry, and she counted herself lucky.

The fatigue, however, was a constant, but she didn't really have time to be tired, so she generally ignored it.

"And how about _you_ , Killian," Robin said. "How are you feeling? Are you ready to be a father?"

"Yes," Killian answered, and all Emma saw on his face was pride and excitement and _joy_ , and suddenly her cheeks were hurting because she was smiling so hard. 

"Listen," Robin said, abruptly dropping his voice low. "I'm not sure how to go about doing this but...I need to ask a favor of you."

"Sure..." Emma said, happiness deflating like a balloon with a slow leak.

"Regina told me your...your son is here. From the future."

Emma thought she understood where this was going. And, really, could she blame him?

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to talk to him. There's...there's something I need to know."

Emma and Killian glanced at each other. They both knew what Robin wanted: it was the same thing Emma had wanted, when she sought out a unicorn horn.

"What do you think, love?" Killian asked, slipping his arm around her waist. She leaned into him a little, his warmth comforting and solid against her side. She inclined to be selfish, and say she didn't want Ian to do anything right now that would put more pressure on him, but she knew that was wrong. Ian was a tough kid, and smart. He could handle it...and if he didn't _want_ to do it, well, then Emma would support him, with Killian by her side.

"As long as we're there," Emma said finally, nodding. "And as long as Ian's okay with it."

-

Ian knocked on Henry's bedroom door and waited for him to call, "Come in!" before entering.

"Hey," Henry said without looking up from his history textbook. "I'm almost done."

"How'd you know it was me?" Ian asked, plopping down on Henry's bed.

"I didn't recognize the footsteps coming down the hall," he replied, and swiveled around in his desk chair to face Ian. "Hey, is that my shirt?"

"Oh, yeah," Ian said, plucking at the plaid shirt he was wearing. "Mom wanted me to dress up tonight, but, you know, I don't exactly have any clothes here. So we had to raid your closet."

"Oh, okay, cool," Henry said, shrugging. "You can wear whatever you want. I'm not even sure any of the stuff at mom's fits me anymore, anyway."

"Thanks," Ian grinned. Wearing hand-me-downs were not a new thing for him. Many of the clothes he wore growing up had once belonged to Neal -- his mom insisted that at the rate Ian destroyed jeans and t-shirts, there was no point in buying all new ones.

"I'll be finished in ten minutes." Henry turned back to his homework. "You can check out my comics while you're waiting, if you want."

"Hell yes," Ian replied, scooting off the bed and over to Henry's bookshelf. He recognized many of the comic books, as Henry still had them in his collection in the future. He selected a few and made himself comfortable on the bed again.

This felt almost exactly like being at home (except Henry was 13 instead of 27, and they were at the Mills-Locksley house, not the Jones house). It was relaxing. Ian would have been perfectly happy to stay up there all night -- or even for as long as it took until Zelena arrived.  

After 15 minutes, Henry closed his math book decisively, and said, "Ok, I've been thinking..."

"Mmhm," Ian said, looking up from the issue of Hellboy he was reading.

"I think I have an idea for how to figure out what we need to do to ensure everyone's memories of you are properly erased. So that the future doesn't get messed up."

"Yea?" Ian said, grinning excitedly. He _knew_ Henry would come up with an idea. Henry always had an idea.

"We just have to talk to the future version of me."

Ian's smiled slipped.

"Oh," he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Henry had sounded so _confident_ , but...Ian didn't see how that was possible.

"No -- just listen!" Henry said. "When mom was the Dark One -- "

And then Henry suddenly paused.

"Yea, don't worry, I know about all that," Ian said.

_I know that mom was the Dark One when her and dad got it on in a field of flowers and made me._

_Gross, by the way, mom and dad._

"Ah, okay, good. Anyway, when mom was the Dark One, we tried to contact Merlin for help, and we used a Crimson Crown to do it."

Ian waited.

"A Crimson Crown allows you to _communicate across barriers_."

"Time is a barrier," Ian said after a moment, when it hit him.

_It could work. It could definitely work._

"Do you _have_ a Crimson Crown?"

"Well..." Henry said, "I was thinking we could use the same one we used to talk to Merlin."

"It wasn't destroyed?"

"Not exactly?"

Ian raised one eyebrow.

"It was still in the cauldron after the spell finished. It's pretty, uh, mangled, but it survived Arthur burning it, so I think it might still work," Henry said. 

"I don't know," Ian said skeptically, "The potion could have wrung all the magic out of the Crimson Crown while still leaving behind its physical form. What you have might just be a dead shell."

_Holy crap, I sound like Rowan._

_See, Rowan? I do listen when you talk about magic._

The truth was, that was his favorite time to listen to her. Her face was either all scrunched up in concentration, or she was all giddy because she'd found out something new or cool...

Plus, it was either have Rowan re-explain everything Regina was trying to teach him, or deal with Regina's sneers and snide comments when he failed to properly perform the "simple" spells she asked him to do.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, realizing he'd distracted himself reminiscing.

"We won't know until we try it, will we?" Henry repeated patiently.

Ian smiled. The optimism gene may have skipped their mom, but Henry had definitely gotten it.

"Right," he agreed.

"We just need to break into my mom's -- Regina's -- vault to get it," Henry said. "That _could_ be a problem. We'll have to -- "

"Oh," Ian said dismissively. "That's not a problem."

"But there are protection spells and -- "

"Not a problem," Ian repeated firmly. He and Rowan had broken into Regina's vault on several occasions, most of them without Regina knowing, and he would be extremely surprised if it was harder to do now than it was in the future. "When are we going to do it?"

Henry took a deep breath. "I think we're going to have to wait until I'm out of school for Christmas vacation."

"Ok, I -- "

There was a sudden knock on the door, and they both whipped their heads around as Emma entered.

"Hey, mom," Henry said cheerfully, before suspicion had even begun to cloud her face.

_Damn, he's good._

"Hey, kid," Emma answered. "Dinner's ready, if you guys want to come downstairs."

Henry scrambled up and into the hallway. Ian replaced Henry's comics reverently on their shelf before following. He was held up outside the door with a hand on his arm, however. Henry stopped too, further down the hallway, but Emma gave him her, "Go away, I have to talk to your brother" look (the one that she had to give Jackie at least once a day, usually followed up with "I know you're still listening, go to your room!") and Henry left, throwing Ian one sympathetic look before he turned the corner and was out of sight.

After Henry's footsteps had retreated down the stairs, Emma rounded on Ian and asked, "Did you _blackmail_ your dad?"

He could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't angry, she was _curious_.

"I did," he said, conspiratorially. "Just don't tell him I lied; I don't really have anything to blackmail him with."

_Actually, I do have some dirt on him, but if mom found out that for the last four years dad's been teaching me how to use a sword a little more seriously than "Just for fun, love" she'd flip her shit._

_Also, if she found out dad lost me at the zoo for a full hour that one time in Boston she'll probably never let him take me anywhere unsupervised._

"If you say so," she said. Ian knew she didn't believe him, but, for the moment, he was protected by her fear that he might reveal something that would damage the future. He felt a little guilty about it...

_But not guilty enough to not take advantage of it._

_Oh my god...the possibilities..._

"C'mon, there's someone who wants to talk to you," she said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Who?" he asked quickly.

"Robin," his mom answered.

"Oh."

All at once, his insides seemed to shrivel.

"You know what he's going to ask you, right?"

Ian nodded.

"If you don't want to talk to him, you don't have to," she said gently.

"No," Ian said, taking a deep breath. "It's okay."

_It's okay because there's nothing to hide. And telling Uncle Robin that his daughter is just about the most not-evil person I know is probably okay, right?_

-

Emma led Ian into the sitting room, where Killian and Robin were waiting, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the coffee table. Killian looked relaxed; hook arm hanging loosely at his side, other hand in his jeans pocket, but Emma saw the steely glint in his eye.

_This could have been us, after all, begging, pleading for some outside confirmation that our child wasn't Dark._

"You must be Ian," Robin said softly, extending his hand and adding, "You look just like your father."

Killian grinned and winked at Ian behind Robin's back. Emma rolled her eyes. People really needed to stop saying that in front of Killian, before his head swelled so much he couldn't fit through doors anymore.

"Hey, Uncle Robin," Ian said, taking Robin's hand and shaking it. 

Everyone was silent for an awkward moment, and then Robin said, "I don't know how to ask this...and I'm sorry to have to ask this, but..."

"You want to know about Rowan," Ian finished for him.

"Yes," Robin said, sounding relieved. "I know we're not supposed to do anything that might change the future, but I need to know -- " Robin's voice cracked " -- I need to know if she's..."

"If she's like her psycho mother?"

Robin seemed to be holding his breath.

"She's not," Ian said, and Robin visibly relaxed. "She's a lot like you, actually."

"Really?"

"Yea. She has your good heart."

"What else is she like?" Robin asked eagerly. Emma couldn't help sharing a smile with Killian.

"She's smart. _Very_ smart. She's awesome with a bow. She's really good at magic...she kind of rocks at everything she does. It's a little unfair, actually."

Robin smiled at him knowingly, then said, "You must love my daughter very much."

"I -- what?" Ian's mouth dropped open, cheeks suddenly a deep, flaming red. Killian guffawed, doubling over with laughter. Robin blinked, apparently unsure what was so funny.

"Okay, dinner time," Emma said quickly, and ushered a glaring Ian out of the room.

-

After dinner they retired to the living room for coffee and dessert. Emma was sitting on the couch squashed between Mary Margaret and Ian, with Henry on Ian's other side. Killian was standing near the doorway, talking to Robin and David. Emma heard the words "pub" and "tavern" a few times, and guessed that they were discussing Killian's soon-to-be bar. She wished she could hear their conversation; Killian became so _animated_ when he talked about the bar. It was endearing.

Emma was holding Neal on her lap, feeding him bits of cupcake from her plate while Mary Margaret hovered over them watchfully. Ian was watching her and Neal out of the corner of his eye.

" _See?_ " he muttered at Neal. "You're sitting in _my_ mom's lap but _I'm_ not hitting _you_."

Emma smirked at him sideways.

_Oh, yes, there's going to be plenty of rivalry between these two._

_Should be exciting._

_And exhausting._

Roland appeared abruptly, skipping up to lean against Ian's knees. He had watched Ian thoughtfully from across the table while they ate dinner, and seemed to have made up his mind about the new big boy with the blonde hair. 

"Do you want to play?" he asked brightly.

"Uh, okay," Ian laughed. "What are we going to play?"

"Pirates!"

Ian put his cupcake down and said solemnly, "That's my favorite game."

"Henry, you come too!" Roland said, tugging on Henry's sleeve, and then Henry and Ian followed little Roland from the room. Emma watched them go, smiling. Neal patted her arm pointedly, drawing her attention back down to him, reminding her that she had a job to do. She scooped up another spoonful of cupcake and transferred it into Neal's mouth, watching him chew contentedly. It amused her to see him relishing her homemade cupcakes, while every time she offered him a bit of the cake Regina had ordered, he turned his nose up at it. Emma waited for him to finish, then offered him another spoonful.

"Not too much," Mary Margaret cautioned.

"I know, I know," Emma said.

"You're really good with him, you know."

"I don't know," Emma sighed. "I think I'm going to need a lot of practice."

"Well, whenever you want to practice, feel free to borrow your brother. And you know that any questions you have, you can always ask me."

"I will," Emma promised. "Once things settle down a little and I actually have time to think about it." And then, because she knew how excited it would make her mom, Emma added, "We have our first doctor's appointment on Tuesday."

"Oh, Emma! How exciting!" Mary Margaret gushed.

Emma let her mom's enthusiasm wash over her. It was really nice having someone be so happy for you, and it was even nicer when you let yourself be open to it.

"That's something I wish Charming and I had been able to do. I would have _loved_ to see an ultrasound of you and your brother. Or to hear your heartbeats."

"You mean they don't have OB/GYN's in the Enchanted Forest?" Emma quipped.

"Hardly," Mary Margret answered. "Oh! I also have a few old things of Neal's that he doesn't need anymore that you and Killian could have."

"Won't you need it again, one day, when, you know...?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Mary Margaret said dismissively, and shrugged. "We have you, and we have Neal. That's enough."

The way she said it...Emma sensed there was something else.

"Are you and dad -- "

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?"

Regina and Robin were standing in front of the fireplace, Robin holding Rowan swaddled in a fuzzy pink blanket. Everyone quieted immediately. Even Neal had paused in his cupcake-mongering to watch. Henry and Ian must have heard Regina's announcement, because they returned to their places on the couch next to Emma and stuck Roland in between them. Ian had acquired a fake eye-patch, and someone had drawn a mustache on Roland.

_Ten bucks says I know who did it._

_I just hope he didn't use a Sharpie._

"We want to thank you all for coming here tonight," Regina said formally. Around the room, those with glasses in hand raised them briefly in acknowledgment.

"The reason we invited you is not to reveal our daughter's name, since everyone here _already_ knows her name -- " there were several chuckles "-- but to name Rowan's godparents."

Emma blinked in surprise. That had never occurred to her. She wondered briefly if Henry had godparents...or if _she_ had godparents. 

"There are two very important people in this room," Regina said.

"Two people who have stood by us and supported us during tough times. Two people who have helped us grow and become better people ourselves. Two people we believe would be wonderful role models for our daughter."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ian grinning.

_Holy shit, no way._

"Little John and Emma Swan," Regina said. "Would you come up here, please?"

Emma sat stunned for a moment, but then Ian elbowed her and her brain unfroze. She handed her plate of cupcake crumbs to Ian, gave Neal to Mary Margaret, and went to stand beside Little John before Regina.

"Would you do our daughter the honor of being her godparents?" Robin asked.

"Of course!" said Little John, and clapped Robin so hard on the back that Rowan nearly flew from his arms and across the room.

"Y-yes," said Emma, and she saw Regina's relieved smile, as if she had been afraid Emma might refuse.

Robin was about to hand the baby over to Little John, then seemed to think better of it and turned to Emma instead. Emma tried not to look afraid as she carefully took Rowan into her arms. She was much smaller and much lighter than Neal. Emma had that sense of holding something very, very fragile. Little John tickled Rowan's cheek carefully with one large finger, and Rowan's mouth quirked in a gummy smile, producing a matching smile from Little John.

"Regina," she said. "This is really -- thank you, this is an honor."

"The honor is ours," Robin said, arm around Regina. "And who better to be Rowan's godmother than the mother of her best friend?"

"I know you'll do right by our daughter," Regina added, and Emma heard the vague threat in her statement.

_There we go, there's the Regina I know._

 

-

Emma, Killian, and Ian were the last to leave. They were in the hallway, coats on, ready to depart, waiting for Regina to finish packing the leftovers she insisted they take.

Killian was standing next to Robin, peering down at the bundle Robin held. Killian's eyes were twinkling, and he wore a soft, gentle smile.

"I wanted to thank you, Ian," Robin said, forcing Ian, who was looking anywhere but at Rowan, to stop staring at the ceiling and look him in the eye.

"Oh,you're welcome." Ian said. "Uh, for what?"

"I mean it," Robin said. "Thank you for risking yourself to come here and warn us. My Merry Men and I are going to do everything in our power to ensure that Zelena is taken care of, and you make it home safe."

Ian nodded, mouth pressed into a tight line.

"I know, Uncle Robin."

-

"Maybe you and I could babysit Neal sometime, to practice." Killian suggested later, as he and Emma were undressing for bed. "Or your _goddaughter_."

"Just because Regina wants me to be Rowan's godmother does _not_ mean she wants me to be her babysitter," Emma said, shimmiying out of her skirt.

"We can wait until she's not around then, and ask Robin," Killian replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching her idly. He was already stripped down to his boxer briefs.

"My mom _did_ say tonight that we can borrow Neal whenever we want."

"Aye, I'd like that."

Emma removed her top, dropped it to the floor, and sauntered over to the bed. She slid onto Killian's lap, arms going around his neck. She could feel him hard already, pressed against her core.

"I believe there were some promises made, earlier, about things that were going to happen, when we got home..." she said, and rocked her hips. He moved suddenly, flipping her onto her back.

"Oh, Swan," he purred. "The whole neighborhood's going to need earplugs, because I'm going to make you _scream."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up...Emma and Killian go to the doctor :D


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually only the first half of Chapter 28, but as the second half still requires a lot of tinkering, I split the chapter into two chapters. Hopefully I'll have the next one by Sunday-Monday! Thank you again for your patience, and for all your kind comments!!!

"Killian...Killian wake up," whispered a gentle voice.

"Swan?" he muttered groggily, opening his eyes to see Emma smiling at him over her shoulder.

"Hey, there," she said, and it took him a moment to realize why exactly she was gifting him with _that_ particular smile: not only did he have an erection, it also seemed that the dream he'd been having about rubbing himself off against her backside hadn't been a dream. He shifted his hips, thinking his cock in her read end was probably not how Emma imagined waking up this morning (this very special morning), but she shifted with him.

"I was going to let you finish," she purred. "But then I thought that maybe you'd prefer the real thing..."

 She slid her hand in between their bodies, past the waistband of his boxers (this world's sleeping clothes were marvelously convenient), and wrapped it around his length. He gasped a little. The light touches of her fingers sent a shiver of excitement from his center outwards.

He treasured the fact that she wasn't coy about sex, that she made it clear what she wanted and how she wanted it, that she wasn't afraid to enjoy herself.

Almost in spite of himself, however, he glanced at the clock. It was 9am. They had slept in.

Killian hesitated. "Do we have time?"

"The doctor's appointment isn't until 11."

Emma hadn't stopped her caresses. It was becoming extremely difficult to think about anything other than the curve of her bare shoulder, the exposed skin in between her tank top and her pajama bottoms, her legs tangled with his, her hand stroking him.

"What about Ian?"

"He's a teenager," Emma snorted. "He'll sleep until noon unless someone wakes him up."

"You mean unless _we_ wake him up. Again."

Ian had spent most of Monday not talking to them and avoiding eye contact.

"Then we'll just have to be more quiet this time, won't we...?"

Her grip on him tightened, causing him to thrust reflexively into her hand. He caught himself, feeling foolishly like a schoolboy about to spurt in his breeches at the first touch of a woman. But mornings had always been that way for him.

Which Emma _knew_.

She _knew_ and she was teasing him.

And he _loved_ it.

His lips found her shoulder and he kissed his way up to her neck, dragging his teeth lightly along her skin. He let his hand drift lazily over her hip. Her stomach muscles tensed under his fingers as he traced a line up her belly.

"Is this okay?" he asked, tentatively cupping one of her breasts, worried that they may be tender due to her pregnancy.

"It's _perfect_ ," she sighed, and relaxed more of her weight back against his chest. He pinched her nipple between his fingers and was rewarded with a low moan. Abruptly, she rolled her hips backwards and maneuvered him so that he was pressing against her entrance. "I need you inside me. _Now_."

Killian was more than happy to comply. There was no sweeter feeling than that of her sheathing him entirely, and Killian almost came with that first long, slow slide into her heat. He felt her walls clench around him momentarily before relaxing again.

"That feels amazing," she breathed. Killian was already near the edge, and he wasn't going to last much longer, especially if she kept _squeezing_ him like that, but he wanted -- he _needed_ \-- her to come with him. He snaked his hand down her front and buried his fingers in her folds, finding her drenched.

"Come for me, love," he whispered against her ear. He kept his thrusts measured and shallow, hitting her where she was most sensitive. Suddenly, she moaned loudly, back arching, and threw her head back against his shoulder, body quivering in his arms. He snapped his hips forward, plunging into her as far as he could. The fluttering of her walls around his cock pushed him over the edge in a rush, and he held tight to her as he pulsed inside her, unable to move, only able to feel as his orgasm washed over him.

Emma was his anchor: the soft sounds falling from her lips, the scent of her hair, the taste of her skin as he pressed his lips to her shoulder again. She held him steady as the waves of pleasure gradually receded, until he was left feeling boneless and slightly lightheaded.

When he felt Emma's body relax, he disengaged himself from her and rolled onto his back. She followed, turning in his arms to lay pressed against his side, head resting on his shoulder, one hand on his chest, over his heart.

"I thought you said you were going to be quiet," he teased.

"That _was_ quiet," she said. "And how am I supposed to help the noises I make when you do all _that_?"

"Do _what_?" he prompted, smirking.

She didn't answer, she just trailed her hand downwards,

"I don't know if I can handle a sequel, love. You tired me out."

"I guess all those stories about Captain Hook's prowess were a little exaggerated then, huh?"

Really, the _audacity_ on this woman...

He was about to _show_ her his "prowess" when she yawned and he noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Did you sleep?"

She shrugged. "I kept waking up."

"Anxious about this afternoon?"

"It's just a doctor's appointment," she said.

Killian knew better than to believe that was how she truly felt.

"It's not _just_ a doctor's appointment," he said. "Today we get to see our son for the first time."

"If you want to see him, go down the hallway."

" _Emma_ ," he huffed, a little hurt by her indifference. He didn't understand why she was being so stubborn. Well -- actually he was fairly certain he did, and he'd set fire to the Jolly Roger and dance naked upon its ashes before he allowed Emma to sabotage herself. "Talk to me, love. _Please_. What's wrong?"

"I had a few ultrasounds before, when I was pregnant with Henry," Emma said hesitantly, more to his chest hair than to him. "But I didn't look. I was too afraid."

"Emma, if you don't want to -- "

"I _do_ want to," she cut him off.  She propped herself up on her elbows and buried her face in her hands, then said, voice muffled, "I really, really want to, I just... I feel so guilty being happy _now_ when I was so miserable while I was pregnant with Henry. I feel like I'm hurting him somehow. Hurting him _again_ because I hurt him the first time by not being happy about having him."

Killian turned onto his side and used his stump arm to support his head (which wasn't very comfortable for either his head or his stump, but what choice did he have?) while his other hand stroked Emma's hair, gently brushing it away from her face and back over her shoulders.

"You have to forgive yourself for all that, love," he said quietly.

Emma froze as his words sunk in, then pulled her head out of her hands and gave him a sharp look, which he countered with a grin. Only recently she had been telling _him_ the exact same thing.

"You did what you had to do, for Henry's sake. There's no shame in that."

Emma looked away, at her pillow, and was silent for a while. Killian waited, fingers working through the long strands of her hair, partly because he knew it soothed her, and partly because he loved her hair. He was excited that she'd be passing that on to their children: the color to Ian, and the curl to Jackie.

Finally, around the time Killian was pretty sure he'd worked all the tangles from her tresses, Emma spoke.

"You're right. I made the right decision. I _know_ I made the right decision. If I had to go back, I'd do it again. It just..." she trailed off for a moment, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes, but then she frowned determinedly and continued, "it hurts sometimes, thinking about how I wasn't there for him. And being pregnant now makes me think of all the things I missed with Henry."

"You can't dwell on the past, Emma, or you'll forget to live in the present," he said firmly. "You need to cherish what you have now."

She nodded, she nodded like she believed him, like she understood, but she was chewing her lower lip and her eyebrows were still all scrunched up.

"What is it? What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," she said, too quickly.

"Emma...there's something else..."

"I...I don't want to miss anything with Ian," she said.

"You _won't_ ," he said. "I _know_ you, Swan. Nothing's going to tear you apart from our boy. You're going to be there for everything. Starting today, with his ultrasound."

The little crease disappeared from between her brows, and he knew she'd let go of her worry, at least for the time being, and that was enough, for now.

"What do you think he'll look like?" He pulled her into his arms, and she snuggled up tight against him. "Think he'll have his blonde hair already?"

"I think he's going to look like a little grey blob," she said, but her smile was back.

"A _handsome_ grey blob," Killian amended for her, and the smile grew.

Killian thought she was probably correct about the ultrasound (the one Robin had showed him on his phone had been so indistinct -- just accumulations of swirls and splotches -- that he hadn't been sure what he was looking at) but he hoped she wasn't.

"I love you." she said suddenly, and gave him the _just for Killian_ smile, the one that warmed him as if he were standing in direct sunlight.

_My smirk, Emma's smile. Our son has my smirk but Emma's smile._

"I love you, too."

Emma snuggled back against him, still smiling.

"Is Henry coming over after school today?" Killian asked. "It's been a while since we've had the lad over."

_A few days feels like too long._

"If Regina lets him..."

"I think Ian will put up a fight if she says no," Killian chuckled. "The boys seem rather fond of each other."

"Yea," Emma said. "I'm glad they get along so well. Plus, I like seeing Henry hanging out with someone his own age."

"I agree," Killian said, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"It's getting kind of late," Emma said, with another yawn. "What should we do for breakfast?"

"How about I cook something for the three of us while you go back to sleep and get some more rest?" he suggested, then added, "You're _supposed_ to be getting plenty of rest."

"The four of us," Emma corrected.

"Aye, love," Killian laughed. "The four of us, then. What do you say?"

"Sounds good."

"What would you like?"

"Um..."

"Yes?"

"Can you make pancakes?"

"Of course," he answered.

"Chocolate-chip pancakes?"

"Is that _you_ asking, or little Killian?"

"Both," she said, with a grin.

"Anything for my loves," he said, and scooted down the bed to kiss her on the belly, over their growing son, the son they were going to _see_ today. And then, because he just bloody well couldn't resist, he trailed his lips lower, slowly, wondering how far she would let him go (hoping she would let him continue until he'd had his fill of _another_ sort of breakfast), but as he reached the waistband of her pajama pants she giggled and pushed his face away.

"As you wish," he sighed dramatically, and left for the kitchen.

-

It took Killian a full two minutes of standing in front of the stove, staring at it, before he realized he had no clue how to make pancakes. He tried to recall if he'd ever seen Emma make them before, but his mind drew a blank. Reluctantly, he turned on his heel to face the stairs. It seemed he had no other choice. Jaw clenched, he tiptoed up to the second floor. He crept past his and Emma's bedroom (with a peek inside to ensure she was still asleep), and then went into Ian's room and sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

"Ian!" he whispered, shaking the boy's shoulder gently. "Ian, lad, wake up!"

"Wha?" Ian mumbled, one eye cracking open.

"How do you make pancakes?"

Ian stared at him blearily.

"How do you make pancakes?" Killian repeated, a little louder.

" _Dad_ , _the directions are on the back of the box._ "

"Pancakes come in a box?" he asked dumbly.

" _Yes_ \-- you just bought it a few days ago!"

Killian suddenly remembered a red box with a picture of someone's smiling aunt on it.

"Thank you," he said. "Go back to sleep."

Ian grumbled something Killian couldn't discern, wrenched the blankets back up around his ears, and rolled away from Killian to face the wall.

Killian pelted back downstairs, fished the box out of the cabinets, and set to work. Five minutes later, however, he was scrambling back upstairs.

"Your mom said she wants chocolate-chip pancakes. How do I do that?"

"Just add chocolate chips."

"Before or after?"

"Oh my god, dad -- do you want me to come make them?"

"No, just tell me how -- "

"I'm doing it," Ian growled, whipping the covers off and storming from the room.

For all his bluster, Ian was a patient teacher. He calmly walked Killian through all the steps, and even scraped Killian's first, blackened attempt into the trash without a word and hid it under some other rubbish, then set the griddle back up for Killian to have another try.

"So, what's the occasion?" Ian asked, leaning against the counter.

"Pardon?" Killian said, eyes on the pancake he was determined not to burn.

"Mom only makes chocolate-chip pancakes on really special occasions."

"Ah," Killian said, risking a glance away from the stove to see Ian watching him, one eyebrow quirked.

_Like looking into a mirror._

"Your mother and I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon," he said, and then for some reason, he felt compelled to prove to the boy right here and now that he wasn't just loved, he was _wanted_ , he added, "For an ultrasound. We're going to get our first look at you."

"Oh," Ian said softly. He seemed a little surprised, and Killian noticed his cheeks were red. "Uh, you can flip the pancake now."

Killian searched Ian's face, trying to burn it into his memory, wondering if somehow there'd be something there that he'd recognize on the ultrasound, something recognizably _Ian_.

"Dad, I said flip the pancake. FLIP THE PANCAKE!"

Killian rushed to did as he was bid. To his astonishment, the pancake was browned, but not burnt -- certainly still edible.

"That was close," Ian said, grinning. "Now just do that about thirty more times, and we then we go wake mom up!"

" _You_ can go wake your mother up."

"Nuh-uh. You do it. I know better."

Killian narrowed his eyes at Ian, contemplating.

"Flip a coin?" he asked.

"You're on!"

In the end, it was Killian who had to go wake Emma. He was fairly certain Ian had used magic to win, but as he couldn't prove it, he was forced to take the loss.  

"Breakfast is ready," he said gently, stroking a finger along Emma's cheek. Her mouth quirked into a smile.

"Th'pancakes smell amazing," she mumbled.

"Apparently they taste amazing, too. According to Ian, that is, who's already eaten several."

"Typical teenage boy," she said, and got out of bed.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think splitting 28 into two chapters ending up being a good decision, even if 28 was a little short. The school I teach at is out for vacation, and I have two long weeks before I start my summer job, so I'm hoping I can get a lot of writing done in that time! It's getting close to Zelena arriving...I'm getting nervous just thinking about it :D

On their way to the hospital, Emma and Killian dropped Ian off at the Sheriff's station to spend the afternoon with David. It was the first time Ian would be without either Killian or Emma nearby, and Emma felt strangely apprehensive about leaving him.

"Do you know what to do if Zelena shows up?" Emma asked, stepping from the car and levering the driver's seat forward so Ian could squeeze out.

"Uh, punch her in the mouth?"

" _Yes_ ," Killian said, at the same time Emma said, "No!"

"If Zelena shows up I stick with grandpa and call you guys right away," Ian recited, and Emma _heard_ the eye-roll in his tone.

"You call _me_ right away," Emma corrected. "Your dad's still not great with his new phone."

"Hey!" Killian protested.

"It's true, dad. Just accept it," Ian said.

"Are you sure you don't want to go with us?" Emma asked one last time.

"Are _you_ sure I can't just stay at home?"

"I'm sure," Emma answered immediately. They _couldn't_ leave him on his own -- partly because of his proclivity for property damage, and partly because if something happened Emma wanted to know he was safe. "It's either the station with grandpa, or the doctor's office with us. _Or_ , Regina's house."

"Bye!" Ian said brightly, and started up the sidewalk towards the station.

"Hey -- do you have your snack?" she asked, stopping Ian in his tracks.

"I'm not going to _preschool_ , mom, I'm going to the station. For like two hours."

"What if it's longer than that? I know for a fact that the pretzels in the vending machine are three years expired," Emma said.

" _I_ told you that."

"Just take the pancakes I packed, please. And eat them if you get hungry."

" _Fine_ ," he sighed, and ducked back into the car to grab the container with that morning's leftover chocolate-chip pancakes. Emma saw the little smile on his face though, a smile she recognized because she wore it herself sometimes: it was the smile she got whenever Killian fussed over her, simply because he _cared_.

"See ya, dad," Ian said, straightening.

"Goodbye, lad. We won't be long."

"Bye, mom."

"Bye, kid."

Emma got back into the car and watched Ian run up the sidewalk. When he got to the front door he stopped, turned around, shouted, "Oh! Let me know if you're having a boy or a girl!", then disappeared inside.

Killian chuckled fondly.

"Do you think we should mess around with him a little? Tell him we're having a girl..." Emma asked.

"Only if you also want to send him to Archie for therapy afterwards."

"I think he's going to need that anyway, after what he heard Sunday night."

"We weren't that loud, Swan," said Killian, buckling his seatbelt as Emma pulled away from the curb. "The boy's prone to dramatization."

_Like somebody else I know._

"What _I_ don't understand," Killian continued, "is how he isn't used to it yet...are we not having sex in the future?"

"I think we probably just learn to hide it better," she said. "I mean, once we have a little kid running around, we're going to have to start getting creative."

 _"_ It's _creativity_ you want, now is it, Swan?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You know what I mean."

Killian just smiled smugly at her.

-

Emma and Killian were the only two people in the waiting room at the OB/GYN's office, which Emma was grateful for since she wasn't exactly ready to have the news that she was pregnant spread around town. They _should_ be able to keep it quiet for a while longer. That is, provided Grumpy didn't wander by the hospital (Emma couldn't imagine a reason _why_ he would -- he was supposedly with the other dwarves right now, gutting the interior of Any Given Sundae -- but she wasn't dumb enough to think it somehow wasn't a possibility).

Emma kept thinking back to her and Killian's conversation that morning and telling herself that Killian was right: she needed to let go of her guilt, focus on the present, but the fear kept trying to creep in again...the fear that she was hurting Henry, the fear that she couldn't be the nurturing mother her and Killian's son needed...

As if he could read her thoughts, Killian laid his hand over both of hers, and she realized she had been twisting them together in her lap. At his touch, her worries receded. She took a deep breath and wrapped her fingers around Killian's, running one of her thumbs along his knuckles, over and over.

Somehow it was soothing, as if he was transferring his strength to her. Emma _loved_ his hand. Despite its capacity for great violence, it was also capable of an astounding gentleness. With this hand he had reached through to her, past her walls, with this hand he had led her from the Darkness, with this hand he held her, worshiped her body, showed her a tenderness she'd never experienced before.

And very soon this hand would be cradling their son, tucking him in at night, wiping away his tears and putting on Band-Aids...

_Teaching him how to tie twenty different sailor's knots._

_And probably swordfight (nope, don't wanna know)._

Emma noticed he wasn't wearing his rings -- truthfully, he'd been wearing them less and less lately, but he'd taken them off Sunday for dinner at Regina's, and never put them back on. She sort of thought maybe he never would, and she thought maybe it was because he no longer needed reminders from his past to keep him on his path. Killian had things to look forward to in his future to do that for him, now.

She lifted her eyes from their joined hands to find him watching her, a crease of worry between his brows.

"I'm glad we're both here," she said quietly, and she heard his breath catch because he knew she didn't just mean here in this doctor's office right now, she meant here in their journey together, here living the future they promised each other.

He smiled softly. "Me too, Swan."

She squeezed his hand and jerked her head in the direction of the rack of pamphlets she had seen him eyeing earlier.

"Go ahead," she said. "I know you want to."

He threw her a grin, darted across the room, grabbed one of each pamphlet, and returned to his seat next to her.

"I thought you'd already read them all?" she teased, leaning over to peer at the pile of pamphlets in his lap he was shuffling through.

"There are quite a few here I don't have," he confessed, and he sounded like a kid who'd just realized there were ten extra presents under the tree for him he hadn't noticed before.

"Can I read a few?"

He looked at her with surprise, then a grin lit up his entire face.

"Which one would you like first, love?"

-

Emma wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but _this_ definitely wasn't it. As soon as the monitor lit up, everything -- all the worry, all the fear -- just sort of fell away, and for a moment the world consisted only of a tiny, baby-shaped gray blob on a computer screen in a doctor's office.

The most _precious_ baby-shaped gray blob.

"Is that...?" Killian trailed off hoarsely, and then swallowed hard.

_Ian._

"Yep, that's your baby," the doctor said, smiling at him. "It looks like you're about 11 weeks along."

Emma's hand found Killian's and gripped hard.

She really hadn't expected the baby to look so much like a, well, like a _baby_ already. He was small (the size of a lime, according to one of the pamphlets) but his head, body, arms, and legs were all distinct.

_It's real. He's real._

Suddenly, Killian gasped. The little legs on the screen kicked out, the body wiggled.

"He moved! Emma, did you feel him?" Killian's eyes zipped from the screen to her belly to her face and then back.

"It's too early to determine the baby's sex," the doctor said steadily, eyes on the monitor again. "And too early to be able to feel your baby moving yet."

"Er, right," Killian said quickly, and Emma had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"Are you two hoping for a boy?"

"Um," Emma said slowly. "It's more of a feeling."

"It's _more_ than a feeling, love," Killian said, smirking at her. She squeezed his hand extra hard in warning.

"At sixteen weeks we'll be able to tell for certain on the ultrasound."

"Mmhm," Emma said politely. And her and Killian shared a smile.

"Would you like to hear your baby's heartbeat?"

"Yes," she said.

_More than anything._

The doctor turned a dial on the monitor, and the room was filled with a rhythmic _thump-thump thump-thump._

Emma closed her eyes, just letting Ian's little heartbeat fill her ears. The sound was low, but steady. Strong.

Killian's hand began to tremble slightly in hers. She opened her eyes to see him bring their joined hands to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand gently, then pressed his forehead to her knuckles, eyes shut tightly.

Emma saw a tear escape from beneath his eyelashes and slip down his cheek, and then she started crying too.

-

They took home a list of dietary instructions (Killian looked it over gleefully: "We're going to give our son his _best chance_ , Swan"), and two hard copies of the ultrasound -- Killian had insisted.

"What's the second one for?" she had asked. One for the fridge, one for...

"My pocket, Swan," he had answered softly, and tucked it away carefully in his jacket. "So, our little pirate's arriving July 11th?"

_Little pirate._

"Summer baby," Emma said, nodding. "We're going to have to buy him some sunglasses and swimming trunks. If he's anything like you, he's going to want to spend every day on the beach near the sea, right?"

Killian grinned.

-

Emma left Killian at Any Given Sundae before going to pick up Ian.

"I'll be home around dinner time," Killian said, giving her a long, lingering kiss her.

Emma wanted to ask if she could come in and see how construction was progressing, but she heard a loud crash through the open door, followed by yelling. Swearing, Killian jumped from the car and ran inside.

_Next time._

-

"Where's Ian?" Emma asked, entering the office to find David alone at his desk and no one else in sight.

"Regina took him."

"Regina _took_ him?"

"Calm down, she didn't kidnap him, she -- "

" _Where_ did she take him?"

"I don't know  -- "

" _Dad!_ "

"I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't think it would be a problem."

Emma stared at him for a moment in annoyance, then said, "You're off the babysitting list," turned on her heel, and left.

-

Regina didn't answer her phone, and when Emma swung by her house, no one was home. Thinking the next place to look was probably the farm, but knowing she needed a snack before she dealt with that, she went home first. As soon as she walked in the door, however, she stumbled to a halt.

"STOP!" Ian yelled. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, practically at her feet, a very large, old-looking leather-bound book spread open in his lap. His hair was sticking up all over, as if he'd been repeatedly running his hands through it, and he had a slightly wild look in his eyes.

"Don't. Move." he said through gritted teeth.

"Um..."

"Are you finished with that spell yet?" Regina called from the back of the house.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and seemed to scream internally.

"I _said,_ did you finish that spell yet?" Regina barked, entering the kitchen. Then she caught sight of Emma. "Oh, you're home."

"Yea, well, I live here, so..." Emma said. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

"We're putting a protection spell on your house, what does it look like we're doing?"

"You're right, how did I miss that?" Emma retorted, carefully stepping around Ian. "I thought you hadn't figured the spell out yet?"

"I _hadn't_ ," Regina admitted. "I hit a dead end. But since, well, since your son seemed to know what he was talking about when we were at the barn the other day, I thought maybe he should take a look."

"And?" Emma prompted.

"It seems he has something of a gift for magic," Regina said, slightly grudgingly. "We put the spell on my house first, and then came here. So, have you finished it, or not?"

"Not," Ian said. "But I'm almost done."

" _Almost done_ ," Regina sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "So much wasted potential. You're just like your mother -- " behind her back, Ian's mouth was moving in imitation of her words " -- you could be an unparalleled sorcerer if you'd just _apply_ yourself more..."

Emma had to frown hard to stop the laugh building in her chest from bubbling over. She hoped Regina would just think the stern look was for Ian and his apparent lack of ambition to be the world's greatest magician.

"Applying myself would be easier if you weren't breathing down my neck," Ian growled.

"Oh, is _that_ what's taking you so long?"

" _No_ , what's taking me so long is that _this_ house isn't used to magic like yours is. It's resisting."

"Whoa, kid, back up. The house is _resisting_?"

"Yes," Ian said impatiently, running his fingers through his hair again. "It's like how you can build up a tolerance to medication, but opposite. The more times an object is enchanted, the easier it becomes to enchant again afterwards. Although, that usually also means that the successive spells become less and less potent too..."

He trailed off into a mumble, ignoring them and staring hard at the book in his lap, so Emma nodded to Regina and they retreated to the kitchen table to give Ian his space.

"So this spell will protect the house against Zelena?"

"This spell will protect against anyone and anything that has Dark magic and wishes you harm," Regina clarified.

"What about that Mordred kid Ian says she's got with her? Will it protect against him?"

"As he doesn't have Dark magic, it's unlikely. But he's only a teenager -- he can't be older than Ian over there, correct? How dangerous can he be?"

"Oh I don't know, do you consider a fully-trained knight dangerous?" Ian said sarcastically, joining them and throwing the book down on the kitchen table with a dull thud.

"Um, yes?"

"Then he's pretty dangerous," Ian said simply.

"Fully-trained at thirteen?" Emma asked skeptically. "I thought knights were grown men?"

"Apparently there's not a lot else to do in Camelot besides learn how to swing a sword," Ian replied with a shrug.

"Not to mention Arthur was just about unhinged enough to turn his teenage son into a soldier. He was probably an infant when Arthur put a sword in his hand."

Emma groaned inwardly.

_I think I prefer flying monkeys to murderous teenagers with swords._

"So where else besides here and your house are you going to put this spell?" Emma asked, thinking about the explosive consequences of trying to confine Ian to the protection of the house.

"The Merry Men's campsite, the Sheriff's station, Granny's," Ian said, counting off on his fingers, "grandma and grandpa's loft, The Jolly Roger -- "

"We're _not_ doing the Jolly Roger," Regina cut him off.

" _I_ am," Ian said stubbornly. " _I'm_ the one casting the spell, so I can put it wherever I bloody please."

Ian and Regina glared at each other. Emma was pretty sure neither one would look away first ( _it's a miracle he's survived Regina's tutoring this long_ ), so she took it upon herself to intervene.

"You should do Gold's shop, too," she suggested.

Regina tore her eyes away from Ian's to blink at her. "Why? No one's there -- "

" _Belle_ is there," she said. 

"Not to mention a whole lot of magic," Ian added.

The appeal to Regina's practical nature seemed to convince her.

"Fine," she said. "We can do Gold's shop too. Now, finish that spell so I can go home."

"I _am_ finished," Ian said.

-

After Regina left (turning back once to say: "Henry wanted me to inform you that he'll be coming over after school for dinner and a sleepover"), Ian slumped into a chair, exhausted.

"How was the doctor?" he asked, eyes closed and head leaned back.

"Well, your dad cried," she said lightly.

Ian grinned. "Did _you_ cry?"

"I don't cry, kid."

"Mom, you cried when I lost my last baby tooth. And when I won the spelling bee in 3rd grade. And when -- "

"Okay, okay, I get it. Yes, I cried."

-

"Did Killian tell you what I want for Christmas?" Henry asked.

"He did," Emma chuckled. She and Henry were in the front room, relaxing on the couch with some hot chocolate while Ian and Killian washed the dishes in the kitchen (Emma, Henry, and Ian had taught Killian how to play rock-paper-scissors, and then had a tournament to decide which two losers would clean up after dinner).

"Do you think I should ask for a two-player game instead, so Ian and I can play together?"

"If you want to," she said carefully. She knew Henry had been pretty lonely the past year, ever since they'd returned to Storybrooke from New York. He hid it well -- he was an independent kid, after all, and he knew how to keep himself occupied -- but Violet had been the last real connection he'd made with someone his own age, and she had disappeared back to Camelot along with Arthur and the rest of his subjects, leaving Henry alone again.

"I'm gonna get a two-player game instead," Henry said decisively, and Emma's heart broke a little.

"Hey, did you see your brother's ultrasound on the fridge?" she asked. She knew a newborn brother wasn't the same as a brother your own age, but she hoped he would be just as excited to have Ian around even if he was much younger.

"Yea! It's really cool!" Henry said, and Emma didn't need her superpower to know it was true, to see how genuinely excited he was. "I can't wait until he's here!"

"You know he's not going to pop out as a 13-year-old, right?" Emma teased. "He'll be a baby."

"Yea, I know."

"And this one," she said, tilting her mug in Ian's direction, "will have to go back home. To the future."

"I know that, too," he said, and he looked a little sad. "I still like having him here, though."

"Me too," Emma agreed.

She loved it, but she hated it -- hated it because A) he wasn't safe, and B) somewhere there was a future version of her and Killian _without_ their Ian, and she couldn't imagine what they were feeling.

They were silent for a while, sipping their drinks, watching Killian and Ian at the sink. Ian had Killian's hook and was dutifully scrubbing it with a sponge ("Have you ever heard of germs, dad?") while Killian stood by watching, red-faced.

"Do you still have my ultrasound?" Henry asked quietly.

"No, kid, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I really wish I did."

He nodded, in an "it's okay" sort of way.

"Have you ever thought about how things might be, if they were different? Like if you'd kept me?"

"I used to," Emma said. "Before you came and found me."

_I thought about you, kid. I thought about you all the time._

_Sometimes I'd have a really good day, or a week, and I'd think that maybe it would have been okay if I'd kept you, maybe we'd have been okay. But most of the time everything was a mess, and I knew you were better off wherever you were, I knew I'd made the right choice._

_By the time things got stable, it was too late. I didn't want to come looking for you, I didn't want to tear your life apart. I knew you were better off without me._

_When you found me...it was just the right time._

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, blinked hard to clear the tears from her eyes.

"Do you think about it?" she asked throatily.

"Sometimes."

Her vision blurred as the tears escaped, making hot tracks down her cheeks.

"But thinking about it isn't the same as wishing it was true," he added, and Emma just stared, frozen. "If you hadn't given me away, then it would probably be just like it was in New York. I mean, that was okay, it was really nice being together with you, but it was just us. We didn't have a family like we do here."

His chin wobbled, as if he was also about to cry.

" _Henry_ ," she said, fending off a sob, and pulled him into a hug. His arms went tightly around her. "You know I love you, right? More than anything."

"I know, mom."

"And you know I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what, right? No one's ever going to take your place, you know that?"

" _Yes_ , mom."

"Ok, good."

"Hey, mom?"

"Yea, Henry?"

"Are you crying?"

"Yes, I'm crying."

"Is it...is it because you're sad? Or because you're happy?"

"It's because I'm happy, kid. I'm happy to have a son as wonderful as you."

Something prodded her on the arm, and she looked up, startled. Ian was offering her a box of tissues. His eyes were red-rimmed and over-bright.

"Please stop crying," he said. "I'm gonna cry if you two keep crying."

"Aye, me as well," Killian said from behind Ian. "We've made some more hot chocolate. Here."

Ian pushed some tissues into her hand (he put Henry's directly on Henry's cheeks, where they stuck because they were wet with tears) and Killian provided them with fresh hot chocolates.

"Thanks," Emma said, somewhat shakily.

Ian shrugged, grinning. 

_Two wonderful sons. I've got two wonderful sons._

_And a wonderful man whose father to both, even if one's not by blood._

-

Emma and Killian were in bed, leaning up against the headboard with the pamphlets spread out on the bed surrounding them. The ultrasound was on her bedside table -- she hadn't been able to leave it downstairs on the fridge. Henry and Ian were in Henry's room, not yet asleep (Emma could hear their laughs clearly). Soon her or Killian would have to go down the hallway and tell them to go to sleep. She was thinking of sending Killian to do it, because she could see the joy on his face every time he did that was very clearly dad-duty.

"Did you know that babies actually cry in the womb?" Killian asked. "We can't hear them because of all the, erm, fluid."

"I did not, but thanks for creeping me out and making me sad at the same time."

"Sorry, love."

There was the sound of running feet down the hallway, which came to a halt outside their bedroom, followed by a polite tapping on the door.

"Door's open," Emma called.

The door burst open, and Henry and Ian crowded the frame.

"Can we get a Christmas tree?" they asked together.

Emma raised an eyebrow at them.

"Bad news, guys, Zelena's coming to town this year, not Santa."

" _Mom_ ," Ian complained.

" _Please!_ " Henry pleaded.

She couldn't resist their hopeful little faces.

"Yes, we can get a tree," she said, smiling.

Henry and Ian high-fived.

"Now, go to bed! One of you has school tomorrow!" Emma said loudly, and they both raced back down the hallway.

"We're not crazy for trying to raise a kid in this, right?" she asked Killian, after she'd heard Henry's bedroom door close.

"What's on your mind, love?" he said, putting the pamphlet he was holding down on his lap.

"It's just -- you know -- all this danger, all the time...Ian's just so... _calm_ , kind of. About the magic. And Zelena."

"He's not _calm_ ," Killian said. "Inside I think he's frightened. But he's strong, like you, and resourceful."

"You don't think it means that we've been raising him to fight monsters, or something?"

"No, love, I don't think so," Killian chuckled. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. She snuggled against him, tucking her head under his chin. "Now, tell me more about Christmas in Storybrooke. What's it like? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know," Emma admitted. "We've never really been all together for a Christmas here."

"Really?" Killian asked, surprised.

" _Really_ really," Emma replied. "It's all going to be new."

"Are you nervous?"

"No," she said, smiling, "I'm excited."


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for the amount of time it took to write it. I'm really happy with how it came out :)
> 
> Also, I hope y'all like Will Scarlet because I LOVE Will Scarlet.

Over the course of the next week, Ian's presence around the house started to feel... _natural_. The three of them -- usually four, counting Henry -- fell into an easy rhythm: Emma went to the station in the morning while Killian went to the bar, and Ian went with Mary Margaret and Neal until dinner time (purportedly passing the hours alternately reading up on Arthurian legends and running Christmas errands).

A few days Regina "borrowed" Ian to continue casting the protection spell on various strategic locations around town. Ian always returned exhausted afterwards, and had to be allowed to nap for an hour and then plied with hot chocolate and breakfast-for-dinner before he seemed to recover. The third time this happened, Killian claimed he'd had enough: Regina was running Ian ragged and he was going to put a stop to it, but Ian shut him down immediately.

"I have to do it, dad," he said, locking eyes with Killian. Something passed between them, something Emma couldn't quite put her finger on, and then Killian just said, "Alright, lad," and put an extra helping of bacon on Ian's plate.

Henry spent his afternoons and evenings with them, and once school was out for Christmas break, he started spending the night, too. Emma expected Regina to comment on the amount of time Henry was spending with Emma and Killian, but it seemed she was mostly too busy with Roland and Rowan for the time being to complain.

Emma was only able to muster up the teeniest, _tiniest_ amount of guilt for taking advantage of Regina's state of distraction, because it meant having Henry spend so much time at the house that it felt like he lived there. Having the boys in the house (Emma loved thinking of Henry and Ian collectively as the boys, _her boys_ ) was beyond entertaining. Ian was sunny by nature, and he brought out the same carefree, lightheartedness in Henry, something Emma hadn't seen in a long time. The two made an unexpectedly good pair. What surprised Emma the most, however, was how, despite Ian's bold, boisterous personality ( _definitely like his father_ ), he deferred to Henry.

"Is it because Henry's older?" she had asked Killian, the expert on the dynamics between older and younger brothers.

"Not precisely. Ian respects Henry because Henry's _worth_ respecting," Killian had replied. "You've raised two fine boys, Swan."

"You helped," she'd told him, bumping his shoulder with hers. "With _both_ of them. I can really see the difference you've made in Henry's life. He's really lucky to have you around."

She'd said it lightly, like it wasn't a big deal -- and it wasn't, it just felt obvious -- but Killian reacted the same way as when she'd told him their child would carry his last name, as if she'd plucked the moon from the sky and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he'd said quietly, with that sort of soft, wonder-filled expression on his face.

"For what?"

"For giving me the chance to be a father, Emma. With Henry, and...with Ian."

It was too much -- the awe in his voice, the raw emotion. She'd suddenly found herself fighting back tears.

"You're going to be a great father, Killian," she'd said, and hugged him, threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. He'd hugged her back fiercely, burying his face against her neck, and whispered, "I promise."

They got a Christmas tree the Friday after Henry and Ian asked. They went to the tree sale in the parking lot next to the church, and let the boys pick one out. They picked out the biggest, bushiest one they could find -- of course -- and the two of them helped Killian haul it to the car. All Emma could think of during the drive home was how ridiculous they must look with a tree bigger than the rest of the bug tied to the roof.

They put the tree in the front room, nestled into the small alcove made by the bay window, then broke briefly for refreshments (hot chocolate and candy canes), before beginning decorating. Henry and Ian sang all the Christmas carols they could remember (and sometimes ones they could only remember parts of) as they strung up the lights and hung the baubles. They kept messing up "12 Days of Christmas" -- purposely or accidentally, Emma wasn't sure -- by lapsing into hysterical giggles every time they reached "seven swans a swimming".

Emma joined in when they started singing "Jingle Bells", telling herself it was purely to teach them the schoolyard "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells" version, which had them laughing even harder. Killian picked up the songs rather quickly, and started singing along as well. As Emma suspected, he had a pleasant voice. He was grinning from ear to ear like a little boy, eyes twinkling merrily, and Emma was grateful to Henry and Ian for making such a big deal out of Christmas. She had been inclined to downplay the whole thing, as she had no particularly good memories of past Christmases (except for the one she spent with Henry in New York, and while it had been pleasant it had been quiet, subdued). But if she had done that, if she had followed her instincts instead of trusting in the instincts of her two boys, she would have missed all this: all the smiles, all the laughing, all the _togetherness_.

Emma felt warm inside. _Content_.

When the tree was finished, they turned off all the rest of the lights in the house so that the tree was the only source of illumination, and crammed themselves onto the couch to admire their handiwork.

"It's beautiful," Killian said softly.

"This was a really good idea, guys," Emma said.

"We know," Henry responded, and grinned.

"I'm going to have to thank your grandma for taking you two to get the decorations."

"Oh! That reminds me!" Henry said, then leapt from the couch and dashed upstairs.

Emma stared after him.

"We got something else for the tree," Ian explained.

Henry returned and handed Emma a small gift bag stuffed with a load of very crumpled tissue paper.

"Merry Christmas," he said, grinning.

"It's a little bit early," Emma said, but took the gift bag all the same.

"Just open it," Ian encouraged.

Emma pulled the tissue paper out of the gift bag and found two wrapped-up lumps at the bottom. She picked one up and tore off the paper to reveal two ornaments: one little wooden pirate ship, and one miniature yellow Volkswagen Beetle.

Emma couldn't speak, at first, she could only stare at the two objects cradled in her palms, held delicately like precious gems. Killian reached in and scooped up the ship, letting it dangle by the string from one finger.

"What are these? Are they for the tree as well?"

"Yea, you're supposed to have special ornaments on the tree too," Ian said, "Ornaments that mean something."

"We thought it would be cool if you had ornaments of your _old_ homes on your first tree in your _new_ home."

"Hey kid, I only lived out of the bug for one year," Emma said, finally finding her voice, but she couldn't keep the smile from her face. She wondered if either Henry or Ian understood exactly the significance of their "old homes" versus their new home: a car and a ship, neither stationary, always moving, wandering, and their house now, rooted solidly. _Permanent_.

"Open the other ones!"

Emma complied, finding two more ornaments: a book for Henry, and a hockey stick for Ian, both with their names written on them.

"This is like your Christmas starter pack," Henry said, smiling proudly.

"And each year you have to add more ornaments," Ian said.

"These are perfect," Emma said. "Can you put them on the tree for me?"

Ian and Henry took the ornaments and hung them on the tree, close to each other near the middle, then returned to the couch.

"There's _one_ thing that's missing, though," Ian said, settling back against the cushions.

"Yea," Henry added.

"Oh? What's that?" Killian asked curiously.

" _Presents_ ," Henry said. "There should be presents under the tree."

"Like, _a lot_ of presents."

"Presents addressed to _us_."

Emma and Killian laughed.

-

Emma woke up the morning of Christmas Eve to find Killian's palm brushing against her abdomen, up and down, gently tracing the curve of her belly. She was 12 weeks pregnant now, and a round little baby bump had finally snuck up on her (it was a barely-there baby bump, but it was definitely a baby bump).

Emma couldn't keep her hand off it. And neither could Killian.

"Do you think he can hear our voices?" he asked.

"I hope so," Emma replied.

Killian bent to kiss her stomach, then said, breath tickling her skin, "I love you, little lad."

"Tell him I love him too," Emma said, smiling.

"And your mother loves you too," he said, then grinned wickedly and added, "Even though you tire her out and make her breasts hurt."

" _Killian_."

The tender breasts was as recent a development as the baby bump, as if suddenly her body had decided to start acting pregnant. It had only been a few days, but she found she was already missing Killian's touch against her breasts, her nipples...

Without her realizing it, Killian's mouth had travelled lower.

"Killian, what are you -- ahhhhhh -- what are you doing?"

"You know _exactly_ what I'm doing, Swan."

He pulled her pajama bottoms down, allowing himself freer access.

"Killian?"

"Mmm?" he hummed, mouth against her core, tongue exploring her folds.

"...keep doing it."

-

Christmas Eve celebrations consisted of a large potluck at Granny's. They found a parking spot down the block, and walked briskly through the chill air to the door. Emma stopped dead as soon as she could see inside Granny's windows. Inside was a _huge_ crowd, mostly faces she knew, a few she didn't, all milling around, smiling and chatting.

"Emma?" Killian and Ian, walking ahead of her, turned back.

"Yea, I'm okay..." she said, but she still stood frozen. "That's just a lot of people."

"Would you rather we went home? Spent the evening just the three of us?"

"Yes," Emma said. "But we can't. Henry's in there, and my parents."

Killian nodded in understanding, and held out his hand. Emma took it, and let him lead her inside.

David, Mary Margaret, and Neal greeted them as soon as they were through the door. Ian handed the absurdly large tray of cookies he was carrying (he and Henry had insisted that, next to presents, the best thing about Christmas was the desserts, and so the four of them had spent two days making eight different kinds of cookies) to Killian with a grin, said "Hey, grandma. Hey, grandpa," then disappeared into the crowd to find Henry,

Neal spotted Emma and reached for her, gurgling cheerfully.

" _See?_ " Mary Margaret said smugly, passing Neal to Emma (who tried not to look as pleased with herself as she felt for having somehow won the affection of a baby). "I _told_ you you were really good with him."

When Neal was settled in her arms, Killian leaned in, and said, "Hey there, little prince."

Neal stared at Killian for a moment, trying to decide whether he knew him or not, then noticed his hook, which was reflecting the twinkling Christmas lights hanging around the room. Neal reached for it, and Killian obliged him by letting him pull it closer. Neal looked at it in concern for a while, grasping it delicately at the curve, at the base, then shoved it decisively back towards Killian, who chuckled.

"I'll be right back, love," Killian said, kissing her cheek. "I'm going to put this tray down before my arm falls off. Do you want anything to drink?"

"A beer would be nice," she said.

"Milk it is," he said with a smirk, and moved away through the crowd, making his way towards the back of the diner where there was a folding table set up and already piled high with other desserts.

Emma glanced around, discreetly checking out who was gathered. Aside from her parents and Neal, Regina, Robin, Roland and Rowan, the dwarves were there, as well as Marco and Pinnochio, Archie, Aurora and baby Philip, Ashley, Sean, and little Alexandra, and a handful of the fairies, including Blue. No Dr. Whale, _thank god_ \-- Emma didn't want to think about how in a few months he was going to be pulling a baby out of her. The Merry Men were in the corner, playing darts. One of them had Roland on his shoulders. With surprise she saw Will Scarlet there too. He saw her and looked away quickly. Emma hoped the Merry Men would keep an eye on him, so she wouldn't have to.

Turning back to her parents, she hefted Neal higher onto her hip and said, "This guy's getting pretty big. Is he walking yet?"

"Ah, funny you should ask that," David said, chin lifting.

"David, _now_ is not the time."

Emma looked back and forth between her parents, curious. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Your _father_ ," she said, emphasizing the title as if it was a curse word, "thinks that your brother isn't walking yet because -- "

"Because your _mother_ coddles him too much."

"I do not _coddle_ our son."

It had the sound of a well-worn argument.

"Neal isn't walking yet because -- "

" -- because you spoil him by carrying him everywhere."

"Well, David, he _likes_ to be carried!"

Killian approached, two drinks balanced in one hand. As soon as he caught wind of what was going on between David and Mary Margaret, however, he turned on his heel and walked back the way he came. Emma glared at his back.

_Don't leave me here, jerk pirate!_

" _Of course_ he likes to be carried! He's a baby! But he's never going to have a chance to learn how to walk if you never put him down."

"I put him down plenty! He's learned to crawl, hasn't he?"

"The book says -- "

"David, the book says that babies can start taking their first steps anywhere between 9 and 12 months. Just because our son didn't start walking the moment he turned 9 months doesn't mean there's anything wrong with him! Or," she added vehemently, "with me or how I raise him."

"Don't listen to them," Emma told Neal quietly, while their parents continued bickering. He looked up from his examination of her hair again, greenish eyes bright. He was wearing a little frown. "You just keep doing what you're doing, bud. You can walk when you're ready, and in the meantime, mom and dad can get a little extra exercise carrying you -- "

The door opened behind Emma, forcing her to scoot forward hurriedly, and in walked Belle.

"Ooh, I'm sorry Emma!"

"Belle!" Emma said in surprise and relief -- relief because Belle's sudden arrival had cut Emma's parents' argument short. "I haven't seen you in a while."

Sitting outside the pawnshop creepily while contemplating going inside for the unicorn horn didn't count.

"Yes, well..." Belle trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Without thinking Emma rushed forward and hugged her with her free arm.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I feel like we haven't really been there for you, since we got back from the Underworld. And we should have been."

"No, it's -- "

"It's _not_ okay," Emma cut her off, stepping back and bumping into Killian, who threaded an arm around her waist. "No one should have to go through what you are alone."

Killian's arm tightened briefly around her. It wasn't hard for Emma to put herself in Belle's shoes: pregnant and alone, an ex-boyfriend you couldn't bring yourself to contemplate...Emma's stomach twisted and she felt a thousand times worse for not going to Belle sooner. She hadn't _thought_...hadn't realized...

"Thank you, Emma, that means a lot," Belle said. "Truthfully, though, it's my fault as much as anyone's else's.  I...I isolated myself. With Rumple gone, I thought I needed to be alone."

"Well, you're not alone now," Killian said quietly.

"Killian's right," Mary Margaret added, reaching out to lay a hand on Belle's arm. "We're here for you."

Belle nodded, mouth pressed into a firm line.

"Do you wanna hold Neal?" Emma asked, hoping it would make Belle smile and not burst into the tears she was clearly trying so hard to keep in. Belle had watched over Neal while the rest of them were in the Underworld, and she knew Belle had a soft spot for her little brother.

"Yes," Belle answered quickly, and took Neal into her arms. "Hey there, handsome, remember me?"

He smiled gummily at her.

"So, how are you feeling?" Emma asked, taking the glass of milk Killian was nudging her arm with and slipping her free hand into her back pocket.

"Good, I guess," Belle answered, not taking her eyes from Neal.

"Have you talked to a doctor yet?"

"No, I...I haven't."

"Um, David," said Mary Margaret sweetly. "Why don't you take Neal so us ladies can have a little talk?"

"Uh, right," David said, and moved to grab Neal.

"No, it's okay!" Belle said quickly. "It's okay. I'd like to keep holding him, if that's alright."

"Of course," Mary Margaret said, beaming, and ushered her and Emma over to the table by the window. Emma threw Killian an apologetic look over her shoulder, but he just winked at her -- not the smoldering, sexy wink, the "don't worry, love" wink.

"So, speaking of babies," Belle said as they took their seats, "I heard _you're_ pregnant, as well, Emma!"

"Yea," Emma said, smiling so widely her cheeks hurt. She knew everyone in this room was probably aware that she was pregnant, but she hadn't talked to anyone about it besides her parents and Regina -- which was 100% fine because it was _her_ business (her and Killian's) and they didn't need to share it with everyone in town -- but sharing with Belle felt nice.

"And is it true that your son is here, from the future?"

Emma laughed. "Yea, there's that too. He's over there." She nodded towards where Henry and Ian were throwing darts with the Merry Men.

"The blonde one? Oh my gosh, Emma, he looks just like Killian."

"That's what everyone keeps saying," she said, but she couldn't keep the fondness from her voice. "I'll introduce you to him whenever he wanders over."

"He's a really good kid," May Margaret gushed. "Maybe...maybe you could ask him about your baby. They'll be born around the same time; they're probably friends in the future."

"Oh!" Emma said, suddenly remembering. "Did you get the unicorn horn back? I gave it to Regina; she said she'd return it."

The smile slipped from Belle's face.

"I did, thank you," she said, but she said it sort of strangely. "Did it...did you get the answer you wanted?"

"Yea," she said quietly, and it occurred to her that Belle might be tempted to use the unicorn horn as well -- might have _already_ used it, in fact. "It showed me what I needed to see."

She saw the look on Belle's face, saw the resolve there.

"If you want me to be there with you..." Emma said, trailing off.

"Maybe...maybe. I'll let you know," Belle said, shaking her head, suddenly composed and polite again. "Thank you."

Ashley and Aurora joined them, surprising Emma a little. They congratulated both Belle and Emma on their pregnancies, and then started chattering away, doling out advice and anecdotes in equal measure. It was a little overwhelming, at first, but Emma felt herself relax incrementally. It was sort of like having live, interactive pamphlets, only the pamphlets didn't tell you about bleeding for a month after giving birth, or that the first two weeks of breastfeeding felt like razorblades on your nipples. Emma remembered some of those things, but it seemed like her recovery had been rather easy (probably because she wasn't simultaneously caring for a newborn). Emma and Belle exchanged apprehensive looks across the table. Emma would have Killian there with her this time, but Belle...Emma made a mental note to start dropping by the shop, maybe invite Belle over for dinner, show her she didn't _have_ to go through this alone, if she didn't want to.

Regina came over as well, and even though she hadn't been pregnant, she still had a lot to say about raising an infant -- and to everyone's surprise, nothing she said offended anyone. They were just discussing how to deal with colicky babies when Ian plopped down into the chair next to Emma.

"Mom!" he said. "Mo -- oh, hey Aunt Belle! -- mom, can me and Henry have some quarters for the jukebox? Please?"

Belle's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open when Ian addressed her as "Aunt Belle".

"That depends on what you're going to play," Emma said. "Because if I have to listen to 'seven swans a swimming' one more time I might die."

"Are you over here begging your mother for coins, boy?" Killian said, joining them. "I already gave Henry everything I had."

Emma heard the first telltale notes of The Twelve Days of Christmas start playing.

"Oh my _god_ Killian," she groaned. " _What did you do_?"

-

Emma and Killian didn't have a quiet moment together until dessert. They sat side-by-side in one of the booths, sharing a plate of desserts.

"Are you having a good time, love?"

"Yea," she answered. "This is really nice. I'm glad we came."

She offered Killian a forkful of her fruit tart. He took it, then nodded towards the dessert table.

"Should they be doing that?"

Ian and Henry were piling their plates with various treats, but stopped guiltily when they noticed her and Killian watching.

"I don't even want to know," she told them, averting her eyes. "Just eat those somewhere I can't see. And don't come crying to me when you guys get stomachaches. And _don't_ ," she added warningly, "let Regina see you sharing with Roland."

They slunk away, carefully shielding their plates from view. Emma shook her head, but she couldn't be annoyed.

"They're going to be sick," she muttered.

"The other day I saw them devour an entire large pizza and a box of candy canes by themselves. If their stomachs can handle _that_ , they can handle anything."

-

It was around 11 when the party started to die down. Pinnochio had fallen asleep in a booth and one of the Merry Men had volunteered to carry him home for Marco. Mary Margaret and Belle were conversing with Archie at the table in the corner, Regina was hovering over Little John, who was feeding Rowan from a bottle, Henry was with Robin and Roland and the rest of the Merry Men by the jukebox, showing them how to use it, David and Killian were talking quietly together, sitting on stools at the counter, and Ian...

Where was Ian? She realized she hadn't seen him for a while.

"Killian," Emma asked him, sliding up next to him. "Where's Ian?"

Killian blinked, swiveled on his stool, and looked around.

"He was bouncing around with Henry all night..." David said, also looking around. "Have you checked the bathrooms?"

Killian pushed himself away from the counter and took two steps towards the bathroom, but Emma stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she said. "I'll go check."

Killian nodded once, jaw clenching.

Ian wasn't in the bathroom. Emma found him sitting on the stoop out back, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands, staring off into the distance in the direction of the barn.

"Hey, kid."

"Hey, mom," he answered dully.

"Everything okay?"

He shrugged.

"C'mon, let's go for a walk."

"Huh?"

"Yea, let's go," she said. She sent Killian a quick text, letting him know where they were going, and then took off across the parking lot, forcing Ian to follow.

Storybrooke was still covered with snow. There hadn't been a big one since two weeks ago -- just several small flurries -- but it had been consistently cold and cloudy, meaning none of the snow already on the ground had disappeared.

They walked for two blocks before Emma asked, "You ready to talk?"

He glanced at her, then away.

"I just feel out of place," he said.

"I know, kid," she said softly, and put her arm around his shoulders, pulling him against her side.

"Seeing everyone there like that...it makes me homesick."

Emma didn't know what to say, so she just squeezed his shoulder tighter. They kept walking, veering in the direction of the harbor. Killian was always calmed by the sea, and Emma was sort of starting to understand why. The water was peaceful, especially at night with the moonlight on the waves. They reached the docks and found a bench to sit on. It was freezing, and Emma almost stood back up again, but Ian put his bare hands on the wood and warmed the boards with magic so that it felt like one of those heated car seats.

"Neat trick," she complimented.

"Thanks," he said, flashing her a smile.

They sat in easy silence for a while, watching the water, listening to the nearby boats creaking, the gentle sloshing of the waves against their hulls.

"You're very brave," she said, after a while.

"Huh?" he asked.

"I know what it feels like," she said. "I know what it feels like to be surrounded by your family, but feel alone at the same time."

 He nodded, eyes downcast once more.

"You're being very brave," she said again.

" _Mom_ ," he said, sounding slightly disgusted. "It has nothing to do with bravery. It's...I didn't really have a choice."

"I know, but that doesn't mean that every second you're here you aren't being brave."

She put her arm back around him, pulled his head onto her shoulder.

"It's okay, kid," she said, with more confidence than she felt. "We're going to get you home."

"I know you will," he said. "You and dad _always_ win."

She laughed a little. "Always, huh?"

" _Always_ ," he repeated firmly.

"Does that mean we had to fight a lot of bad guys when you were growing up?"

"No, actually," he said. He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. "It was pretty calm."

"No monsters, then? No dark magic or end-of-the-world type stuff?"

"Not really. I mean, when I was younger I _wanted_ there to be, and I was kind of disappointed that it was so peaceful. Until..."

"Until?"

"Until Henry told me how when he was my age, he had wanted the same thing, and then one day he lost his dad, and he realized it wasn't a game. That's when I stopped wishing there would be another bad guy to fight in Storybrooke, because I didn't want to lose you or dad."

"Ian..." she whispered, and then froze. There was a shadow sitting a few benches away from them that she hadn't noticed before. "There's someone over there, I think they're watching us...don't move."

Ian tensed in response, and then, despite her warning, he turned his head slowly to look.

"It's just Uncle Will, mom," he said, body relaxing.

_Uncle Will._

She still didn't know what to do with _that_ particular piece of information.

Before Emma could decide what to do next, Ian was off the bench and walking over to Will Scarlet. Will turned his head, stood still while Ian approached, and then stared as Ian started talking to him. Ian was speaking too quietly for Emma to hear, so she just waited.

After about two minutes, Ian returned. He didn't sit down, he just jerked his head back towards Main Street, and said, "Go back? I'm ready."

Emma nodded and followed him away from the docks. She looked back once to see Will Scarlet, still standing where they had left him, head bowed and shoulders hunched. Was he crying?

"What did you say to him?" she asked.

Ian took a while to respond.

"I told him who I was. And then I told him things would get better. He just has to hang on."

"I thought we were trying _not_ to change things?"

"I don't care. I can't see him like that. He's...he's a mess," he said with a fierce little frown.

Emma nodded. There was nothing she could do about it now, and it wasn't as if every day they weren't probably altering the future without realizing...they were just going to have to look a little bit deeper into that memory potion thing.

As they were nearing Granny's, Killian exited, carrying a tray of hot chocolates.

"Let's go home," he said as he reached them. "We can spend the rest of the night just the three of us."

Ian barreled forward and hugged Killian hard around the middle.

"Whoa, what's all this for, lad?" Killian asked, although he was smiling broadly.

"I just missed you, that's all," Ian answered. "Let's go home."

The way Ian said it always gave Emma a little thrill. Their son had a _home_ , a stable, loving home. A home neither Emma nor Killian had had growing up. Killian looked up, and he and Emma shared a smile.

 _Home_.

-

"Your mother and I have a gift for you," Killian said.

They were back at the house, squished together on the couch in front of the tree, sipping their hot chocolates.

"Hm?" Ian looked surprised.

"We want to give you _this_ ," Emma said, reaching into the collar of her sweater. She grasped the chain around her neck, and pulled it over her head. Ian stared as Emma held up Liam's ring. "Your dad and I talked about it. We think you should have it."

"But...but that's Uncle Liam's ring," Ian said breathlessly. "The one he gave to you in Camelot, to keep you safe while you went off with Merlin to look for the Promethean Flame."

Killian chuckled. It was still amusing how much Ian knew of their lives.

"And _now_ ," Killian said, taking the ring carefully from Emma and placing the chain around Ian's neck, "we're giving it to you."

"Are you sure?" Ian asked, touching the ring hesitantly where it rested against his chest.

"Aye, lad, we're sure."

It looked _right_ , somehow -- as if the ring was meant to be with Ian.

"I promise I'll keep it safe," Ian said, and stuffed the ring down the front of his shirt.

"You're missing the point," Killian said.

"Huh?"

"The point is that it keeps _you_ safe," Emma said.

"It kept me safe as a sailor -- "

"Pirate," Ian said, smirking.

" _Fine_ ," Killian grinned back. "Pirate."

"And it kept me safe while I was the Dark One," Emma said. "And in the Underworld."

Ian nodded.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I love you guys."

"We love you too," Emma said, and hugged Ian, kissed his forehead. "I meant what I said before. We're going to protect you, and we're going to make sure you get home."

"And _I_ meant what I said before, too," Ian said. "I trust you guys. I know you'll win."

Killian laid his hand on Ian's hair, a crease of worry between his brows.

-

Later, in bed, Emma and Killian lay nestled under the blankets together.

"Think he'll be okay?" Emma asked.

"Aye, love."

"Are _you_ going to be okay?"

"Yes, I just...I don't know, I can't sleep. I feel anxious, all of a sudden. About Ian. I don't want to let him down."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," he chuckled.

"When Henry and I lived in New York, and I had to work late because of a tough case, I'd come home and pour myself a drink, then I'd stand in the doorway of Henry's bedroom, just to see him sleeping peacefully. It reminded me of why I did what I did; why I struggled every day. It made me feel stronger, you know? Like, hardened my resolve, or whatever."

Killian was silent.

"Why don't you go check on him? I'll still be here whenever you get back."

He kissed her forehead, scruff tickling her skin.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too," she said, and she was asleep before he left the room.

-

_One year in the future_

It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve when Emma received a distressed phone call from Killian.

"Hey, what's -- "

"Emma!" Killian said frantically. In the background, Ian was wailing. "You have to come home. Something's wrong."

"What is it?"

"Just please come home."

Emma made her excuses to David and Lancelot and drove home. As soon as she got through the front door, Killian was there, Ian screaming in his arms with his little face scrunched up and bright red, and big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"He won't stop crying. I think he's sick," Killian said, and he looked like he might cry himself.

"Let me see him," she said, and he handed their son over.

She put her cheek against Ian's forehead, and was startled by how hot his skin was. "Oh my god, Killian, he's burning up. We need to take him to the hospital."

"Emma, I'm so sorry, I didn't know what to -- "

" _Hey_ ," she said gently, laying her hand on his arm and cutting off his rambling. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. Can you go get his stuff?"

"Yes," Killian said quickly, and dashed away.

Emma rocked Ian while they waited. His crying quieted, but he was still whimpering, and would occasionally give a little shuddering sob.

_Poor little guy._

He had seemed a little off that morning, but she hadn't stopped to pay attention, eager to just get to work and get it over with so they could relax and enjoy their Christmas Eve. She should have _known_ : Ian was a happy, easy-going baby, all smiles, all the time; her and Killian's little ray of sunshine. Him being grumpy meant something was seriously wrong.

Killian returned with the diaper bag, and together they stuffed Ian into his snowsuit and bundled him into the car. His shrieks began again as soon as he was out of Emma's arms. Killian drove so Emma could sit in the backseat with Ian, but Ian was inconsolable. He cried all the way from the house to the ER waiting room, where, either because Emma was the Sheriff or because the nurse had a soft spot for babies (or because Killian looked like he would stab anyone who denied his infant son immediate medical attention) they got a room right away.

Dr. Whale examined Ian for all of two minutes before pronouncing that their little guy had an ear infection, and sent them back home with ear drops and liquid Tylenol for infants. Thirty minutes after administering said medicine, Ian was sound asleep in her arms, looking peaceful for the first time in hours.

"I couldn't do anything, Swan," Killian said roughly, sitting next to her on the couch, running his fingers gently through Ian's hair. "I couldn't do anything to make him feel better. He just kept crying..."

"It's not your fault," she said.

"I feel like it is. I'm with him every day, from the moment he wakes up, to the moment he falls asleep after dinner...and yet I could do nothing to comfort him. I feel like I did something wrong, Swan. "

It had been difficult for Emma to go back to work three months after giving birth to their son (a task not made easier by the fact that she was breastfeeding), but it would have been a million times more difficult if she hadn't known Ian would be home with his father, his father who talked to him and sang to him all day long, who took him on walks and laid on the floor with him in the front room while he played with his toys.

"You did nothing _wrong_ , Killian. You're an amazing father and he loves you. You _know_ he loves you," she said. Killian still looked miserable. "I think it's just an instinct to want your mom when you're sick."

_And when you're hungry. And when you have a poopy diaper._

Killian smiled then, softly. "It's not an instinct love. Our boy's smart. He knows who his protector is."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm not the only one who protects him."

Killian's smile just widened, so Emma ignored him.

"I called my parents, told them we're not going to make it tonight. I said I'd let them know about tomorrow, but they should be prepared to move Christmas dinner to their place."

Killian nodded, and said sadly, "Poor little lad's going to miss his first Christmas because he's sick."

"He's not missing anything," Emma said. "Ian's right here, where he belongs, with you and me."

"Aye, love," he said, and kissed her. "How about I make us some dinner and you pick out what movies we're watching tonight?"

"Muppet's Christmas Carol," Emma said immediately.

"Swan, we've already seen it three times this month."

"Yea, because it's good. Plus, I think Ian really likes it."

"Well, if _Ian_ likes it, how could I possible refuse?" he asked with a grin.

Ian was fussy all night. He woke up every hour, but he didn't scream, so Emma took that to mean the Tylenol and the ear drops were helping. Dr. Whale said the ear infection would likely clear up on its own, they just had to keep him relaxed and comfortable, and keep an eye on his symptoms. By morning, Ian's fever was gone. Emma woke up to find his blue eyes staring at her from two inches away. He was stretched out on the bed on his stomach between her and Killian. When he saw she was awake, he giggled and broke into a toothless grin.

"Good-morning, love," Killian said. "Merry Christmas."

"Mamamamamama," Ian added.

"Looks like our little guy's feeling better," Emma said.

"Aye, he's all smiles this morning," Killian replied.

"Merry Christmas, cutie," she said, giving her boy a big kiss, which he returned wetly.

"Were you reading to him?" she asked Killian, seeing the copy of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ he had resting on his legs.

"I was about to."

"Why don't you read to both of us?" she said.

"I'd love to," Killian answered, blue eyes twinkling. He pulled Ian onto his lap, and Emma snuggled up with them, pulling the covers up over Ian's tummy so he'd stay warm.

Killian opened up the book and started reading. It was ridiculous how good Killian was at it: he did the voices, he did sound effects, he knew how to make the books come to life. Ian was always completely enthralled whenever Killian read to him -- it was the only time he ever truly sat still.

By the end of the story, however, he was fidgeting: rubbing at his infected ear and frowning.

"I think his ear's still hurting him," Emma sighed. "Let's give him some more of that Tylenol, then I'll call my mom to move Christmas dinner over to their place."

"You sure?"

"Yea," she answered. "I don't want a whole bunch of people over here making noise if he's not feeling well. We can still have Henry come over. We'll spend Christmas just the four of us."

"More Christmas cookies for me, then."

They waited until Henry came over before opening the presents under the tree. Henry exclaimed over the books they'd gotten him, the Storybrooke High School hoodie, and the itunes gift card, and Emma almost cried when she ripped the paper off the photo he'd had framed of the four of them from a trip to the beach they'd taken during the summer. Killian stuck one of the discarded bows on top of Ian's head, and Emma snapped a picture of it on her phone and sent it to David. In return, she received one of Neal, his hair thick and black now, wearing the little plastic knight's costume Emma and Killian had bought for him for Christmas, and the text: _He won't let us take it off him. He's been wearing it for three hours_.

Around dinner time, when Henry was cooking grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone on the stove, and Emma was monitoring the onion rings in the oven, there was a knock at their door. Emma opened it to reveal Will Scarlet.

"Hi," he said, a little uncertainly. He was holding a very large, wrapped box.

"Oh, shit," Emma said, and Will's face fell. "No! No, it's just that Ian's sick so we moved dinner to my mom's, but I forgot to tell you."

"That's alright," Will answered. "I'll just go -- "

"No!" Emma said again. She knew if she let Will go, he would be alone for Christmas. He'd been sober for nine months -- since Ian had been born and since he'd been working at The Crow's Nest -- and Emma didn't want that to end tonight. "Stay for dinner with us. We've got grilled cheese sandwiches and onion rings. You know, the fancy stuff."

"I don't want to impose -- "

"Are you saying no to my wife?" Killian said darkly, stepping up behind Emma with Ian in his arms. Ian tried to imitate Killian's scowl, but it was more of a scrunchy face than anything else.

"Well, I was..."

"Get in," Killian growled, and Will obeyed.

"Um, here, this is for the little one," Will said, passing the gift to Emma, who raised her eyebrows in surprise. "It's one of those plastic pirate ships."

Emma laughed. "Thanks. When he's old enough to not eat all the pieces, I think this is going to be his favorite toy. Why don't you two take Ian into the front room and let him open it? I'm going to help Henry with dinner."

"I don't need help," Henry called stubbornly.

"Yea, yea," Emma said. "Just let me pretend, okay?"

After dinner, Emma was cleaning the dishes -- neither Killian nor Henry had figured out how to properly scrub a pan, and it was either do it herself now or redo it after them -- when all of a sudden Killian was shouting for her.

"Emma!"

"Mom!" Henry called. "Come quick! Look at Ian!"

Emma sprinted into the front room and stopped dead. Ian was standing on his own, unsupported, a foot away from the couch she knew he liked to use to pull himself to his feet. Killian was across the room, kneeling on the floor.

"I think he's going to walk, Swan," he said.

"Let's see," she said, grinning.

Killian opened his arms wide. "Come here Ian, come to your father..."

Ian turned his head and saw Emma. Giggling, he turned the rest of his body around to face her, and then took two toddling steps towards her.

" _Bloody hell_ ," she heard Killian mutter, and Henry and Will laughed. Will slapped Killian on the back in consolation.

"Tough luck, mate."

Emma dropped to her knees and held her arms out. "Come here, babe," she said, and Ian crossed the distance between them, slowly, wobbling a little, and then collapsed into her hug, laughing his little bubbly laugh. She kissed his hair, then set him back on his feet, this time facing Killian.

"Go get your daddy," she said, and Killian held out his arms again. Giggling, Ian tottered over to Killian.

"There's my little man," Killian said, sweeping him up and smothering Ian's face with big, wet-sounding kisses.

"Just wait," said Will, "pretty soon he'll be driving."

"Say that again, mate, and you'll be looking for another job."

Will just smirked.

"Ok, now we all need to swear an oath to keep this a secret," Emma said, and everyone stared. "David _cannot_ know that Ian started walking earlier than Neal did."

That night, after Will had gone home (smiling brightly like they hadn't seen him do before), Killian and Emma were on the couch in the front room, bathing in the soft glow of the Christmas tree. Ian was passed out on Killian's lap, wrapped up in his favorite blanket, one hand gripping the front of Killian's sweater. Henry was at the kitchen table with his laptop, burning through his new itunes gift card. He was wearing his new hoodie already, with the hood up and his headphones in. Emma let him have his space: he was a full-blown teenager now, and only physically capable of tolerating family interaction for short periods of time. He was still the same good kid he'd always been -- her sweet boy -- but he was going through some things (normal teenager things) and needed room to figure out who he was, who he wanted to be. It was difficult for Emma, letting go in that way, but Killian was helping her through it, helping her understand. It just made her cling that much more tightly to everyday with Ian.

"He's going to look just like you," Emma said, head resting on Killian's shoulder, gazing down at their son. She'd lost track of how many times she'd said the same thing since Ian had been born, but every time she looked Ian, she was struck by how much he resembled his father: he had the same eyes, same long lashes, same mouth, even the same ears.

"I hope he keeps the blonde hair," Killian said softly, fingers smoothing over Ian's head.

"Me too," Emma agreed, but she knew plenty of babies had blonde hair that darkened as they got older, and Ian's might too. She sighed and snuggled closer to her two boys.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?"

"It was perfect," Emma said, smiling. "We were together. That's all that matters. I _am_ looking forward to next year though. Ian will be older, he'll be able to understand the whole Santa thing and he'll be able to open presents on his own."

Killian grinned. "Will you be dressing up as Santa, or will I?"

"Definitely you," she said, and kissed him. "Happy 2nd Christmas Together."

"Happy 2nd Christmas," he chuckled.

"Happy 2nd Christmas!" Henry shouted from the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone counting, I promise Ian's age at the end is not a mistake. I also promise that some of the other things mentioned casually (Lancelot, Emma being Killian's wife) will be explained later in the story. Just teasing you a little (honestly, I just really enjoy writing the future scenes of them as a family).


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, late-night update! I was writing ALL DAY, I just had to finish it. I start my summer job tomorrow, then I have a week of vacation, and then I'm back at the summer job for three weeks. The next couple of chapters will be shorter (and probably posted sporadically), but time is going to start moving forward much more quickly, in preparation for the all hands on deck, brace for battle stations that will be Zelena's return to Storybrooke.
> 
> Just FYI: my headcanon is Neal being a snotty, bossy little kid until he's about 10, when he accidentally gets Ian into serious trouble (I have a 10-years-in-the-future fic planned for whenever the hell this one is finished) and he's forced to realize he shouldn't be a little jerk anymore, so please don't mind him being referred to as a brat near the end of this chapter :)

_6 years in the future_

Killian was dreaming. He was aboard the Jolly Roger. He was caught in a storm. He was being tossed back and forth, feet unable to find purchase on the slippery decks. He was careening towards the rail. He was --

"Merry Christmas!" a voice shouted, startling him awake, and the Jolly Roger was Killian and Emma's bed, and the storm was their 5-going-on-6-year-old son, bouncing up and down on the mattress, wearing a Santa hat.

"Easy, lad, easy," Killian said. "Why are we shouting?"

Ian dropped to his hands and knees, leaned in close, and said into Killian's ear, "It's Christmas!"

"It's too early to be Christmas," Emma grumbled from next to him, stubbornly burrowing deeper into the blankets.

"But you guys said if the sun's up, it's Christmas!" Ian said, flopping across Killian's chest.

"Well, is the sun up?" Killian asked.

"Yes," said Ian impatiently.

"Are you sure?"

" _Dad_ ," he whined. "C'mon! We have to go downstairs. Santa came!"

Killian chuckled. He grabbed Ian, wrapping the boy up in his arms, and rolled over, towards Emma, pulling Ian with him so that he was firmly nestled between them.

"One more hour," Killian said, pressing his face into Ian's hair. "Santa's presents will still be there."

Ian made a grumpy noise, but made no move to escape. Killian missed this. Before Ian started Kindergarten, he used to snuggle in bed with them almost every morning. Now, there was no time, partly because of school, and partly because --

"WaaaaaAAAAAAHHH!" came the cry from the baby monitor.

"Jackie," Ian huffed.

"Jackie," Emma and Killian agreed.

Jackie was 3 months old now. She was _beautiful_ ; she was everything Killian had ever dreamed of; she was absolutely hell-bent on destroying her mother and father through lack of sleep.

"I've got her," Emma sighed, sitting up. She stretched with a groan.

"No, love, let me -- "

Emma was breastfeeding, but they always kept backup bottles in the fridge so Killian could step in when Emma needed a break.

"No, no," she said, turning around and fixing him with a smile. She was tired, he could see it in her eyes, but her smile was completely contented. "You two hang out. I've got Jackie. If I need help I'll wake up Henry."

Killian smiled back gratefully. Father-son time had been decidedly lacking since Jackie had been born and Ian had started school, and he knew Ian was hurting from it just as much as he was. Emma turned off the baby monitor, winked, and went to feed Jackie, closing the bedroom door on her way out.

Ian turned in Killian's arms and wiggled closer until their faces were an inch apart. His bright blue eyes were serious, and there was a little crease of concern between his eyebrows.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Ian?"

"Why does Jackie cry so much? Doesn't she like us?"

Killian chuckled. Finding out Jackie was colicky had been hard, but Killian thought it was hardest on Ian: he had been _so_ excited for Jackie to arrive, only to be driven away by her constant wailing. Ian didn't say anything, but Killian was certain he was frightened of his sister, frightened that he was somehow causing her to cry.

"She likes us," he said. "Maybe she just doesn't like how we decorated her room,"

Killian meant it as a joke, but Ian's face fell instantly, and he remembered a moment too late that Ian chose the coral pink color they'd painted the walls of Jackie's nursery

"Ian, hey! I'm just kidding lad. She _loves_ her room. _Especially_ the color," Killian said, but Ian looked unconvinced, so he added, " _And_ she loves the blanket you got her. It's her favorite. She likes it even more than the one grandma and grandpa got for her."

It was true -- Jackie refused to be wrapped in any blanket other than the yellow chevron-patterned one Ian picked out ("Mom likes yellow, so Jackie probably will too"). Killian liked to imagine that the blanket was Jackie's favorite because she knew her brother had chosen it for her.

"Then why's she so sad? Doesn't she know we love her?"

A few weeks ago, Killian had caught Ian talking to Jackie in her bouncy chair in the front room when he thought no one was watching. He tried offering her his favorite stuffed animal, One-Eyed Jim the red octopus, murmuring that Mr. Jim was his best friend -- well, second best friend, after dad -- but she could have him, if she wanted. But then Jackie had started bawling, sending Ian scampering from the room.

"Some babies just cry a lot, lad," he said, resting his forehead against Ian's. "It doesn't mean she's sad."

"Is she going to cry forever?"

"No," he said, although he honestly believed that, at the rate she was going, she just might.

"Did I cry a lot when I was a baby?"

"No," Killian admitted. Ian had been the exact opposite: he had smiled all the time, almost from the day he was born. He was endlessly bright and cheerful, full of love and light.

Killian was suddenly struck by an idea.

 "Maybe...maybe you can help your sister."

"How?"

"Maybe you can show her how to be a happy baby, like you were."

"How do I do that?"

"Why don't you try smiling at her? Maybe she just needs someone to show her how."

"Right now?"

"No, lad, not right now. Your mother's feeding her. Later."

"Ok," Ian said, and then ducked down to tuck his head under Killian's chin. "I miss you, dad."

"Miss me? I'm right here."

Ian shrugged, but didn't respond.

Killian hugged Ian, cradling him in his arms like he used to when he was younger. "I know things are different now, with the baby, but it will go back to normal soon, aye?"

Ian nodded, still silent. Killian held him, just holding on to that moment, because Ian was getting older, and this might be the last time they were able to do this.

Christmases were special -- he _loved_ Christmas (he remembered Ian's first Christmas, when the poor lad was sick but also took his first steps; he remembered Ian's second Christmas, when Ian was old enough to understand Santa, and had escaped his crib to wake them up at 6am; or last year, when Emma was barely four weeks pregnant and they had decided to forego caution and told Ian that he was going to have a little brother or sister, and they'd had to explain that the baby wasn't under the tree wrapped in a box like a Christmas gift, the baby was growing in Emma's belly) -- but every Christmas that passed saw Ian another year older, and that was difficult for Killian.

Eventually Ian's breathing evened out, and Killian knew he was asleep. Killian closed his eyes too, and when he opened them again, he could tell that some time had passed, maybe an hour, and Henry was standing next to the bed.

"Killian," Henry said, in the tone of voice suggesting he had just said Killian's name at least five times.

"Aye?"

"Mom said it's almost time to open presents."

"Mmhm."

"She said you need to call Will."

"Oh. Right. Can you hand me my phone, please? Thank you."

Killian took the phone Henry handed him, and, careful not to jostle Ian and wake him, texted Will to bring the package over.

Henry sat on the edge of the bed. "Did you really get Ian a -- "

"Yes! Shhh!" Killian said urgently, then quieter, "Yes. Think he'll like it?"

"Are you kidding? He's going to love it!"

-

_Now_

Ian burst into their room early the next morning shouting "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" and carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He had what Killian recognized as a Santa hat on his head. He marched over and stood expectantly by the side of the bed while Emma and Killian just stared, bleary-eyed and confused.

"Well?" Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, what?" Emma grumbled.

"Well, are you two going to get out of bed? It's Christmas morning!"

"It's 7 o'clock. Christmas morning doesn't start until at least 9 o'clock. Go back to bed," Emma said, and turned over, pulling the covers up over her head.

" _But_ _Santa came_ ," Ian sing-songed.

"Santa's not real kid," Emma called, voice muffled by the blanket.

"I made you coffee," Ian wheedled.

"Uh-uh. Bed. Sleep."

"I made pancakes, too," Ian said, in that same sticky-sweet, coaxing tone.

Emma was silent for a moment. "What kind of pancakes?"

"Chocolate-chip," he said, grinning triumphantly. Killian struggled not to laugh.

"Fine," Emma huffed, flipping the covers off. "Hey! Where are you going with my coffee?"

"You think I'm an idiot? No coffee until you're dressed and downstairs," Ian said, and walked from the room.

"That's _your_ manipulative pirate of a son," Emma said, glaring. "This is all your fault."

Killian smirked at her sideways.

-

Christmas dinner at the house was a quieter, cozier affair than Christmas Eve at Granny's had been. Emma and Killian spent the afternoon preparing several side dishes, while Ian decorated Christmas-tree shaped cookies with frosting and sprinkles. Henry arrived in the late afternoon with Mary Margaret, David, baby Neal, and a large ham.

They crowded around the kitchen table for dinner, sitting comfortably elbow-to-elbow, and Killian took a moment to drink it all in. Dinner with his crew hadn't been as joyful as this, neither on the ship nor in pubs. There was camaraderie between himself and his crew, certainly, but not friendship, and definitely not love. His crew had never felt like family; they were pirates, and he was their captain. He couldn't afford to get close to his crew because the moment he showed weakness, he was as good as dead.

Here, he was surrounded by _family_ , the family he'd chosen, the family that had chosen him, the family that was slowly easing the ache that Liam's death had caused, the ache he'd been carrying around for well over 200 years.

And he had all this because of Emma, Emma who was smiling radiantly next to him, positively _glowing_. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. She glanced at him and her smile grew. Her hand found his arm under the table, squeezed gently, then slid down until it rested atop his hook, where it remained a comforting weight throughout dinner.

When everyone was finished eating, Emma turned to Killian and said, "Why don't we let Ian open his gift early, and then you four," she indicated Killian, David, Henry and Ian, "can take it outside for a while so Mary Margaret and I can clean up?"

"Yea, dad," Ian said eagerly. "Why don't we do that?"

Killian suspected Emma just wanted him out of the way, because as much as he hated to admit it, he was more of a hindrance than a help when it came to doing the dishes, but he couldn't say no to the excited grins on Ian and Henry's faces, so the four of them left Emma, Mary Margaret, and Neal in the kitchen and went into the front room.

Ian's mouth fell open when he saw what his gift was: a set of four street hockey sticks, a pack of street hockey balls, and two plastic nets.

"Ok, this is _way_ better than a video game!" Henry said appreciatively. "Let's go get it set up."

"Meet us outside!" Ian said to Killian and David, and he and Henry started running with the sticks and the net towards the door.

"Hey! Hey, put on your coats!" Killian called after them.

"You know," David said, as he and Killian put their own jackets on and followed the two boys outside, "when we first got our memories back, I wanted to go back to the Enchanted Forest. Be a family there. Start our lives. But now..." he trailed off, but Killian thought he understood.

"Aye, raising a child in this world has its advantages."

" _Exactly_ ," David said. "They can play outside. There are bikes and sports and swimming pools. They can go to school and be with other kids..."

"There are hospitals," Killian added.

"That too," David said. "Wow, do you remember the plague? Can you imagine?"

"I'd rather not." Killian didn't think he was ready to contemplate what he was going to do when his and Emma's son got sick.

The boys were done setting up the nets by the time Killian and David joined them in the street.

"Henry's on my team," Ian informed them, then he leaned into Henry and whispered, quite audibly, "Just go stand by their net. I'll pass you the ball and you can dump it right in. I can run circles around these two all day, no problem."

"We'll see about that," David said darkly, taking up one of the sticks. Killian did the same, trying to imitate the way the Ian held his, adjusting his grip several times, trying to feel out what was most comfortable, but it was rather difficult, as the stick was clearly intended for the two-handed.

"Here, dad, use this one," Ian said, taking the stick Killian held and pressing a different one into his hand, then with the same patience he'd exhibited while teaching Killian how to make pancakes, he maneuvered the stick in Killian's grasp so that his hand gripped it at the top, and the middle rested in the curve of his hook.

"I know you're right-handed, but you're going to shoot lefty today. See, this hand," Ian said, and laid his hand over Killian's and rolled their wrists back and forth, so that the shaft of the stick turned easily in the crook of Killian's hook, and the blade of the stick moved side-to-side, "actually does all the work, and the other one's just support, so you should be fine with the hook. It'll probably feel kinda weird at first though."

"Thanks, lad," Killian said, smiling a little in embarrassment. It was strange, being taken care of in that way. It reminded Killian of Liam teaching him to hoist a sail and tie a bowline.

And that's when it hit him. That was when he realized Ian was a big brother. A big brother to a little sister. A little sister he may have taught to make pancakes, or play hockey.

"Ok, ready?" Ian asked, and when he saw that they were, he released the ball into the street.

They played until it was too dark to see the ball anymore, and trooped back inside, back into the light and warmth of the house.

"Who won?" Emma asked.

"Henry and I steamrolled dad and grandpa," Ian said, breathing heavily, cheeks pink from exertion.

"Yea, we watched from the window," Emma said. "It was a slaughter."

"I hope you aren't too disappointed in me, love," Killian said.

"You could use a little practice," she teased, and kissed him sympathetically on the cheek.

-

David, Mary Margaret and Neal went home after dessert and gifts, and after Henry crushed them all in a game of Monopoly, leaving Emma, Killian, and the boys in the front room, sprawled on the couches and on the floor, full of hot chocolate and cookies and completely content.

"That was a _really_ good Christmas," Henry said, yawning.

"It was," Emma agreed.

"Well, love, I'm glad you enjoyed it, but it's not _quite_ over yet," Killian said, and Henry and Ian perked up in anticipation.

Emma looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"We have _one_ more gift for you, love."

"You guys already gave me a gift, remember? The ornaments."

"Well, you're getting _another_ one, Swan. Because you deserve it," he said, and she blushed, so he added, "And because we love you."

Ian dove under the tree and pulled out the gift that had been hidden all the way at the back, the one wrapped in shimmery gold paper and tied with a white ribbon, and handed it to Henry, who handed it to Killian, who handed it to Emma.

They watched as Emma carefully unwrapped the gift, slowly, the same way she'd unwrapped the ornaments the boys had given her the other day, as if she was revealing something precious. She let out a soft gasp when she saw what was inside: a framed drawing of a small, yellow flower, painted delicately with watercolor.

"A buttercup," Emma said softly. "Where did you -- "

"I drew it," Ian piped. "Dad bought one from Game of Thorns for me so I could see what it looked like."

"Flip it over," Killian told her, and she did. On the back of the frame was taped an empty packet of buttercup seeds.

"I don't understand -- "

"The boys and I already planted them outside the house," he said. "They should show up around springtime."

"Dad said the house needed some personal touches," Ian said.

"To make it more of a home," Henry added.

Emma didn't say anything, just laid the frame gently on the couch beside her, stood and opened her arms, and gestured for Ian and Henry to give her a hug.

"Thank you guys," she said.

"You're welcome," they chorused, and passively endured Emma's hug for nearly a full minute before she finally let go. They both stood there awkwardly, soppy smiles on their faces.

"Killian..." Emma said softly, turning to him and wiping away a tear that had escaped and slipped down her cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't get you anything."

"Are you kidding me, Swan?" he said, taking her by the elbow and pulling her down onto his lap. "You've given me _everything_!"

Emma's lip trembled, and she collapsed against his chest, burying her face in his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye Killian saw Henry and Ian scrambling to leave, to give them a moment. He heard their footsteps running into the den.

"I promised you a future, Emma, but _you_ gave me a reason to want a future at all," he whispered against her hair, arms tight around her, rubbing soothing circle on her back. "If not for you...I'd have _nothing_."

"Take me upstairs," she murmured. He carried her to their bedroom, and closed the door behind him. Henry and Ian were playing one of Henry's new video games in the den, so Killian knew he and Emma would have some time alone. They made love, slowly, quietly, holding each other close, gasping against each other's skin, just reveling in the feeling of being together, being connected.

"I love you," she said afterwards.

"I love you, too," he said. Her eyes were a dark green in the dim light from the only lamp they'd lit. He traced one finger down her cheek and along her lips. Her tongue darted out playfully, and he grinned. "Think we have time for one more go?"

She sucked his fingers into her mouth, and he had his answer.

-

Killian waited until Emma had fallen asleep, smiling contentedly, before putting on sweatpants and a t-shirt and going downstairs to retrieve the boys.

"Off to bed with you," he told them. Nodding and yawning, Henry and Ian turned the television off and went upstairs.

He waited, listening for the sound of their footsteps retreating into Henry's bedroom, before going to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of rum in the kitchen, then wandered over to the fridge, casually, as if it hadn't been his intention the whole time. Stuck to its surface with a magnet was the ultrasound picture of his and Emma's son (the other was still in his jacket pocket, so he'd have it with him whenever he left the house). Someone -- he suspected Ian -- had stuck a small paper Santa hat to it so it looked like the baby was wearing it. He looked at the tiny photo for a long time, remembering how he had felt when he'd first seen the image appear on the screen, remembering the joy that had filled him, expanding in his chest like a tidal wave until it overflowed. He remembered the sound of their son's heartbeat, steady and strong...he had thought of his and Emma's heart, the one they shared, and then the little heart their love had created, beating away inside her.

He took a large sip of rum from the glass, savoring the hot bite at the back of his throat, the warmth pooling in his gut. Revenge used to be the only driving force in his life, the only thing keeping him moving forward. Revenge, and rum. But now his life was consumed with other things: _love, family._ With Emma and the boys.

Thinking of how much his life had changed in the last year, the last six months...it didn't quite feel real.

_Aye, but it is._

He went upstairs. The door to Henry's bedroom was open. Killian leaned against its frame. The two boys were already asleep. Killian could see the glint of metal that was the chain holding Liam's ring around Ian's neck, and he smiled.

It had felt _right_ , passing the ring on to Ian. He only hoped that its protection was real, and not just superstition on Killian's part.

Killian took another sip of rum, and grimaced, but not at the taste. He wanted to _destroy_ Zelena, he wanted to erase every particle of her being from existence. Except that he wasn't that man anymore, because he needed to set a good example for these two boys. He needed to be the father Ian deserved, the father-figure Henry deserved. He would fight to protect his family, aye, even to the point of giving his own life for theirs, but he wouldn't be a murderer.

He went back to bed and slid under the covers, curling himself around Emma, pressing his face to the curve of her neck. She gave a deep, contented sigh, but didn't wake up.

Her light had scoured away the darkness inside him, her love had redeemed him. And he would willingly spend the rest of his life earning that.

-

_6 years in the future, cont'd_

Everyone was just settling around the tree when Killian received the, "I'm here" text from Will.

"Be right back," Killian said, and went to the back door. Will was there, carrying a large, wrapped box, a not uncommon sight at the Jones house on Christmas, truth be told. Somehow Will always found the largest gift possible, and Killian was fairly certain he did it just to annoy them.

"Have you got it?"

"What's it look like, mate?" Will asked, hefting the box.

"Did you give it some air-holes?"

"I'm not a bloody monster, now am I? Of course I put some bloody air-holes in it!"

Killian took the box from Will. It felt surprisingly light.

"You remembered to put the puppy in as well, yes?"

" _Yes_ , bloody hell," Will said, then stomped off, throwing a, "See you for dinner!" over his shoulder.

Killian tiptoed back into the front room, carrying the box carefully out in front of him. Emma saw him first, and bit her lip, hiding her smile. Jackie was in her arms, bundled up in her yellow blanket, fast asleep, likely because she had a full stomach. Ian and Henry were sitting on the floor, Ian chattering away to Henry about something. Henry saw Killian sneaking in over Ian's head, and grinned, but snapped his eyes immediately back down to Ian's. Killian sat in one of the armchairs and set the box gently at his feet.

"Ian," he said, and Ian turned to look at him. His sharp blue eyes fell to the box immediately.

"Is that from Santa?"

"No," he said carefully. "It's from me."

He and Emma had discussed it, whether or not the puppy should be a gift from Santa or from Emma and Killian, and in the end, Emma had insisted that it be from him alone. "Because you're his _dad_ and you're like his favorite person in the world -- no! Don't bother denying it, I know it's true," she smiled then, and Killian saw how happy that little fact made her. "He's been kinda bummed out lately, because Jackie's taking up so much of your time. I think it would be really special if he got it from you." Killian agreed, because he couldn't say no to her, and he couldn't say no to something that would make Ian happy.

"From you?" Ian asked, eyes lighting up, and Killian knew Emma had been right. "What is it?"

"Open the box and see."

Ian tore the paper off, lifted the lid, and let out a little gasp. Inside was a small puppy, her fur a mottled gray and black, her eyes a bright brown.

"Dad!" Ian said, and his face crumpled.

Startled, Killian pulled Ian into his lap. "Ian, what's wrong lad?"

" _I love him_ ," Ian sniffed, tears in his eyes.

"Her," Killian corrected. He lifted the puppy from the box and settled her in Ian's lap. She began licking his face, tail wagging madly, and Ian started giggling, tears gone.

"She's so little!" he said.

"She's a baby -- "

"Like Jackie?" he asked, eyes going big and round.

"Yes," Killian said, smiling. " _Exactly_ like Jackie. So she's going to need someone to take care of her, right? Because babies need a lot of attention?"

"Right," Ian agreed.

 "Who's going to take care of her?"

"I am," Ian said firmly, chin set stubbornly, so reminiscent of his mother.

"Ok, that means you're going to make sure she gets fed and takes naps, goes for walks and gets held a lot -- "

"Can I show my puppy to Jackie?" he asked.

"Bring the puppy over, babe," Emma said, smiling one of those trying-not-to-cry smiles.

Ian cradled the puppy in his arms the way Emma and Killian cradled Jackie, and carried her across the room. Killian followed, and helped support the puppy's weight as Ian lifted her close to Jackie.

"Jackie," Ian whispered, because his sister was asleep, "This is my puppy, Anne Bonny."

"Anne Bonny?" Emma asked.

"Yea, like the pirate lady," Ian said simply, and Henry burst into laughter -- he had been reading Ian tales of real-life pirates since he'd gotten home from college for Christmas a week ago. "But I'll probably just call her Bonny. Or Anne. No, Bonny. Jackie, this is Bonny."

Bonny snuffled Jackie's blanket, then gave her cheek the tiniest of licks. Jackie's mouth quirked in a smile. Ian started bouncing up and down on his toes excitedly.

"I think Jackie likes her! Dad! I think Jackie likes Bonny! Did you see her smile?"

Ian proudly showed off his puppy to his grandparents, Neal, and Uncle Will when they arrived. Neal said the puppy wasn't a very good puppy, and it was a struggle for Killian not to drag his brat of a brother-in-law to the Jolly Roger playhouse out back and tie him to the mast for the rest of the night. David and Mary Margaret made a show of fussing over the puppy as if Ian was presenting a new baby, and Killian felt his heart swell with love and appreciation for them. Will complimented Ian on the puppy's name and ruffled his hair.

The evening was pleasant, as Christmas dinners usually were. They passed Jackie back and forth between them, and she was quiet most of the night, seemingly too confused by all the scene changes to cry too much. She actually seemed to like Will, which surprised everyone, especially Will.

"Looks like we found our new babysitter," Emma said, and Will smiled sheepishly.

After everyone had gone home, Henry helped Emma clean up while Killian fed Jackie from a bottle. They finished and sat at the table with hot chocolates, and Killian wandered away with Jackie, knowing Emma would enjoy a moment alone with her eldest son, to catch up.

He hummed to Jackie, watching the minute changes in her expression as she ate. Her greenish eyes -- Emma's eyes -- stared up at him. Killian held tightly to moments like these, moments when she was calm and he wasn't worried she cried all the time because she didn't like him, but even when she cried he loved her. He had loved her fiercely the moment he'd laid eyes on her, same as with Ian. He could set fire to entire worlds with the heat of his love for his two children. Ian was his light, and Jackie was his princess.

"Right, lass?" he murmured, stroking one of her cheeks with his finger. "You're my little princess? Hm? You're beautiful and you're strong, just like your mother. And we love you, me and you mother and Ian. And speaking of Ian, you've been giving him an awful fright lately, and I think a royal apology is in order. Let's go find him."

Ian was on the couch, reading _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ to the puppy, who was stretched out asleep on his legs. Killian carried Jackie in quietly. As they neared Ian, Jackie turned her face towards the sound of his voice, listening intently.

"Can we join you?" Killian asked.

Ian looked up. "Ok," he said, and scooted forward carefully to make room. The puppy stretched and whined but didn't wake up.

Killian sat so that he could cradle Jackie in the crook of one arm while still holding the bottle steady for her -- dad skills, as Emma and Henry would say -- and have his other arm around Ian's shoulders. Ian leaned back against his chest and started reading again, but stumbled over his words almost immediately.

"Take your time," Killian said, steadying him.

Ian glanced back at him, then at Jackie. Seeing Jackie watching him seemed to harden his resolve. He turned back to the book, took a deep breath, and continued.

"Then he got an idea! An awful idea! The Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea!"

Killian had read every Dr. Seuss book to Ian a thousand times over, but he was pretty sure this was the first time Ian was reading to him, and he got that sad ache in his chest, the ache he'd been getting more and more often recently, whenever he suddenly realized how big Ian was getting.

He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, until the sting of tears subsided. When he opened his eyes and looked down, Jackie was smiling. Her eyes were moving from Ian's face to the pictures in the book and back, and she was _smiling_.

"Ian, hey, look," he whispered, tapping Ian on the shoulder urgently. "I think Jackie likes listening to you read."

"Really?" Ian asked, surprised, whipping his head around to look at his sister.

"Aye, see her smiling?"

Ian's eyes went big, and then he smiled at Jackie, and her smile grew wider in response. It was the biggest smile Killian had seen on her yet.

" _See_?" he said. "She just needed someone to show her how."

Emma shook him gently awake some time later. He was huddled together with Ian and Jackie and the puppy, the four of them asleep.

"I didn't hear Jackie crying for a while. I got a little worried," she said, with a little laugh in her voice.

"She smiled. Jackie smiled."

"Nah, I think you were dreaming, Captain," she teased.

"Nn-nn, Swan. Our little princess smiled because her big brother was reading to her."

"He's a good big brother," Emma said softly. She reached out and smoothed Ian's blonde hair to the side, off his forehead.

"He is," Killian agreed.

"It's because of you."

"Pardon?"

"Ian. He takes after you. Because you're an amazing father. You're a good man, Killian, and I see that same goodness in Ian. He's all the good in you."

" _Emma_ ," he said, voice cracking. He had promised Emma that he would be the father their son -- their _children_ \-- deserved, and he spent his every waking moment trying to live up to that promise. His arm was trapped beneath Ian's head, but he stretched his fingers out, towards Emma, and she threaded her own through his.

"Happy 7th Christmas," she said, smiling his favorite smile, the _just for Killian_ smile.

"Happy 7th Christmas," he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the puppy thing was inspired by this: https://www.instagram.com/p/3uIjHdQS7i/ because it's frickin' cute. Also, the little guy is almost exactly how I imagine Ian (Exhibit A: https://www.instagram.com/p/BHU7ZpWgDQp/). But that whole instagram is pure CUTENESS, so check it out if you're into that sort of thing.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot how exhausting/time-consuming my summer job is, and unfortunately I still have 3 more weeks of it. I'm going to keep working as steadily as I can, but expect more delays for the time being (sorry!).
> 
> This chapter's like 97% dialogue, which I think is sort of a first for me, so hopefully it all works and makes sense. I'm slowly getting the ball rolling back towards action. Christmas was like the nice soft middle, and now we're headed towards the climax. To the person who asked when Zelena's arriving: within 5 chapters.

"Ten..."

It was ten seconds to midnight on New Year's Eve, and everyone was crowded around the TV Leroy had rigged up in the front corner of the bar to watch the Ball Drop at Times Square. The bar wasn't finished, but it had reached a halfway point, of sorts, because Killian and the dwarves had been working overtime on it since Christmas.

"Nine..."

"Are you sure you don't just want me to finish it with magic?" she had teased, standing in the doorway with Killian, taking in all the changes, startled by the progress they had made in a mere three weeks.

The interior was now one open, long room, with stairs at the back leading downwards to bathrooms and storage, and upwards to a small, single room that would function as an office. There were no furnishings yet, the walls were bare drywall and the floor was covered in rosin paper, but it was structurally sound and the lights, heat, and plumbing worked.

"I prefer it the hard way, Swan," he had said, grinning and slipping an arm around her waist.

She understood, and she was ridiculously proud of him, and she wanted Killian to see how happy _everyone_ \-- not just her -- was for him, so she insisted they host New Year's Eve at the bar.

"Eight..."

Emma sent out invitations to the usual crowd via text, put her parents on table-and-chair-finding duty, and had Henry and Ian buy anything and everything that even resembled a New Year's decoration.

As he and Henry were hanging the shimmery gold streamers they'd bought, Ian asked if he could draw something on the drywall.

"This way," Ian said, "when I get home I'll know I was a part of it from the beginning, even if it's just a drawing only I know is there."

 Killian, looking a little soft-eyed, agreed, and bought Ian and Henry a couple of Sharpies and told them to have at it.

Roland, who followed the two older boys around with stars in his eyes, saw them drawing and very politely requested to join in. Ian's one drawing subsequently turned into a sprawling wall mural featuring a battle between pirates and mutant sea creatures, with a few robots, zombies, evil hamburgers, and dogs thrown in.

Killian nearly started crying with laughter when he saw the finished product, and insisted the three boys sign their masterpiece.

"Seven..."

Killian's trip to the liquor store had resulted in two bottles of non-alcoholic wine.

 "For you and Belle," Killian had said, handing them over to her for inspection.

"So basically grape juice?" she had asked with a laugh, but she had cried about it a little bit afterward, because it was so overwhelmingly _different_ this time, with someone like Killian fussing over her.

"Six..."

Killian was going to play bartender that night, so Emma helped him organize the drinks table and tried explaining basic concoctions he could make with what was provided. An hour before people were due to start arriving, Ian burst in the door, dragging Will Scarlet by the arm behind him.

"What's this?" Killian asked, looking Will up and down suspiciously.

"Uncle Will's going to be your bartender tonight," Ian said, shoving Will forward.

Killian hesitated a mere second before he said, to everyone's surprise. "Fine. Help me get these bottles sorted, will you?"

It was immediately apparent that Will Scarlet knew his way around a bar, in more ways than one.

"I think I just made my first hire," Killian whispered to her later, a little incredulously.

"I'm glad. Everyone deserves a second chance," she said, and kissed him, because he was _incredible_ and because she was ridiculously happy that her boys had someone like Killian to look up to.

"Five..."

Ian and Henry convinced Mary Margaret to let them borrow Neal. She agreed, and managed not to hover while they took him over to wall they had drawn on, and helped him add some scribbles with one of the Sharpies.

"He'd be so pissed if he found out about it and hadn't been involved," Ian explained to Emma, with a shrug.

"Four..."

At some point during the night Emma found herself holding Rowan, and as she looked down at her, the way her long lashes rested against her cheeks and her mouth quirked every now and then  in a little smile as she slept, she realized she had a duty to this little one, this little girl who was Henry's sister, and Ian's best friend. This girl was family too, and it was Emma's job to help protect her, guide her.

Emma passed Rowan over to Belle, who whispered that secretly she hoped she was having a girl, and wouldn't that be nice?

Emma took a chance and said she just hoped it was a girl who took after her mother, and to her surprise Belle laughed a real, honest laugh.

Regina took Rowan back, and Killian moved in to top off Emma and Belle's wine glasses with a waggle of his eyebrows. Emma clinked hers against Belle's in a little toast, and after she took a sip, Belle quietly asked if Emma would come over next week, to be with her while she used the unicorn horn.

Emma agreed.

"Three..."

Killian handed both Henry and Ian a shot glass filled with champagne, and put one arm around either of his boys.

"Two..."

Emma planted a kiss on Henry's forehead, which didn't seem to require as much bending down as it used to. He was getting so tall, and starting to look older, as well. He was turning into an adult before her eyes.

"One..."

She kissed Ian, on the temple, over his mysterious scar -- she knew he was lying about how he'd gotten it, but was resigned not to lose sleep over it. Raising him was going to be a wild ride, but Emma and Killian were just going to do their best.

And it seemed that they had done a pretty good job.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Killian's lips found hers, and everything -- the cheering as the clock struck midnight, Henry, Ian, and Roland banging pots and pans out in the street,  the sound of fireworks somewhere in the distance -- fell away, and it was just Emma and Killian.

"Happy New Year, love," Killian breathed against her lips. "Here's to our future."

"To our future," she said, and kissed him again.

-

The next morning, Emma was alone at the station. Her and David had flipped a coin to decide which of them would be on call New Year's Eve, and which of them would go to the office the next day to handle all the consequent paperwork. Emma had pulled paperwork duty, which really didn't surprise her, as she was certain from the beginning that the coin toss was rigged.

All told, there had been three fights at The Rabbit Hole, eight noise complaints, one small fire caused by two idiots with cheap fireworks, and one drunken trespasser who had mistaken his neighbor's doghouse for his bed.

As interesting as all that was, Emma couldn't concentrate. The holidays had felt like a pause, and now...now she had to hit play again.

The calendar on her desk still showed December. She had marked the day when Ian had arrived, and crossed out every following day with an 'X'. He'd been there nearly a month. A month, and there was still no sign of Zelena. Emma wasn't sure whether she should be relieved, or _more_ worried.

Ever since Christmas, her and Killian had been keeping an extra close eye on Ian's moods, taking him outside to play street hockey or into the den to play Xbox whenever they noticed a certain faraway expression on his face. With Henry's help, they had managed to keep him distracted for the past few weeks, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend that everything was sunshine and rainbows.   

She was so distracted that she didn't hear Killian's footsteps approaching, and she jumped, hands jerking up reflexively, when two large grease-bottomed brown bags were deposited on her desk.

"I don't remember ordering," she said, looking up, stuffing her hands into her lap, trying to pretend that she hadn't almost just simultaneously peed her pants and blasted Killian with magic.

He winked, but the wink turned into a grimace as he sat down.

"You okay there?" she asked. She leaned back in her chair, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Aye, just overtaxed myself a bit, that's all."

"By "overtaxed" you mean you were fall-down drunk."

" _Hardly_."

"Admit it," she teased, smirking, "Captain Hook can't handle his rum anymore."

"That was _not_ rum, Swan, that was -- "

"Doc's bathtub gin? Yea, I know. I _told_ you to be careful."

Killian just groaned in response.

"Did you have any coffee yet? That always makes me feel better."

"No," he said, and frowned. "I knew coffee was magical, Swan, but I didn't know it could cure hangovers."

"I don't know about 'cure', but it definitely helps," she said, and then because she was curious she asked, "How did you deal with hangovers as a pirate if you didn't have coffee?"

"A little hair of the dog the next morning and a fair amount of yelling and swearing," he said, smiling ruefully.

"Right," she said. "Ok, I'm going to make you some coffee. Why don't you get started on lunch?"

"No, love, sit down, I've got it," he said. He made to stand up, but Emma pushed him back into his seat.

"You're hungover, I'm not. Which means I get to take care of you today, got it?"

"But you're -- "

"Pregnant? Oh my _God_ , Killian."

She stalked to the break room and set a new pot of coffee brewing, banging things around with a little more force than was necessary. Having Killian fuss over her was nice -- it really, _really_ was -- but it was also inconvenient sometimes, like when she had to defend her ability to perform simple tasks.

Her frustration cooled as she returned to her desk, carrying a steaming cup of very strong coffee in one hand, and two Advil in the other, and saw how absolutely pathetic he looked. He was unusually pale, dull-eyed, and rumpled all over -- shirt, hair, everything. The same instinct to protect and keep safe -- the same feeling that drove Killian to insist that she was too pregnant to do basic, everyday things like make the bed and fold laundry -- reared up inside her.

"After lunch, you need to go take another nap," she said firmly. 

"No," he moaned. "I was going to take the boys to the Jolly Roger. Surprise them."

"Isn't it a little cold to take the ship out?"

"We're not going to take her out, we're just going to check on her, make sure she's handling the winter well. She's never had to endure a winter like the ones you seem to have here, and I'm worried I've been neglecting her."

"Your ship can wait. I think you should go home," she said.

"I can handle it."

"Killian, you're going to collapse. Or get sick. You're exhausted. You need a break."

"But Henry and Ian -- "

"They'll understand," she said. "I mean, I'm sure they'll both be devastated that they have to spend another day inside playing Halo instead of knocking icicles off the Jolly Roger, but they'll understand."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Are you making fun of me, Swan?"

"I would never," she said, smirking.

He continued to stare at her suspiciously.

"C'mon," she coaxed. "Ian wants to have a 3 on 3 street hockey tournament tomorrow. You're going to need your strength."

Emma had discovered that Killian had a hard time saying 'no' when it involved Henry and Ian, and she was _not_ beneath manipulating him with that little trick if it was for his own good.

"It's bad form to manipulate a man like that, Swan," he said, although Emma heard the hint of pride in his voice. 

-

The station was silent again when Killian left, and Emma was once more alone with her thoughts. Until --

"Is he gone?" asked a voice.

Emma whipped around. Ian was peeking his head out of David's office.

"What are you doing? When did you get here?"

"Sometime around your second grilled cheese."

"And you just -- "

"Hid in grandpa's office awkwardly? Yea." He sat in the seat Killian had just vacated, and leaned towards her. "So, listen, what are we doing for dad's birthday?"

Emma froze. "...what?"

"Dad's birthday. It's today. January 1st."

She gaped.

"You didn't know today's dad's birthday?"

"No, no I didn't know he -- "

"You didn't know he _had_ a birthday? I mean, he's _old_ , mom, but even really old guys have birthdays," he said, and then asked again, a little impatiently, "So, what are we going to do?"

"What do we usually do? I mean, do we usually do something special for him?"

" _Of course_ we do something for his birthday. He's dad."

 "And?"

Ian rolled his eyes. "I can't _tell_ you. It might change things. You have to decide."

"You didn't mind changing Will Scarlet's future..."

Ian blushed and wriggled in his chair.

"This isn't about how I may or may not have prevented Uncle Will from turning into a complete drunken sack of -- "

" _Ian_ ," she warned.

"What I'm _trying_ to say is that this is about dad and dad's birthday. We have to do something."

He was watching her, one eyebrow raised expectantly, chin tilted down.

"Stop," she said.

"Stop what?"

"The thing...with your face. Just stop doing your dad's face."

"I'm not _doing_ anything, mom. This is just my face," he said, but he smirked Killian's smirk, and Emma sighed.

"Mom, c'mon, concentrate."

Killian had never mentioned his birthday before, and he certainly hadn't given any indication that today was anything other than a normal, ordinary day. Which meant he probably didn't want to celebrate, and that was something Emma totally empathized with. Except...except this was _Killian_. He deserved to have his birthday celebrated -- there was no hesitation there, no second thought.

"I think I have an idea," she said finally. "But I'm going to need your and Henry's help to pull it off."

-

Emma called her dad a few hours later.

"Hey," he answered. "Are you looking for Henry and Ian? They're here. We're just finishing up a game of Monopoly."

"Oh, yea? You guys having fun?" she asked innocently.

"I think I may have dethroned Henry as the King of Monopoly," he said, laughing, and Emma felt a momentary stab of guilt. Her poor father, blinded by his love for his two grandsons, completely oblivious to their careful manipulation of him.

"Um, listen, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, Emma."

"So, I just found out today's Killian's birthday," she said, and waited.

"It is? He didn't say anything..."

"I know," she said, "He didn't tell me either. Ian told me."

"Oh. _Oh_ ," her dad said slowly, and then, "What are we going to do about it?"

Emma didn't miss the part where her dad said 'we'. Emma felt a rush of affection for her dad.

"I don't think a big party is a good idea," she said. "He's pretty hungover from last night as it is -- "

"Doc's homebrew, huh?"

"Yea, _that_. Anyway, I was thinking something small, just me, him and the boys, you know? So he doesn't feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed or something. Can you, um -- "

"You want me to cover the station tonight. I got it. Not a problem," he said, and Emma heard the little smile in his voice.

"Thanks, dad. I'm sorry this is all last minute. I don't...I don't want him to not celebrate his birthday."

"I know. I understand. I do have _one_ condition though."

"Anything."

"Next year we celebrate together. As a family. Because he's part of ours now."

 _Family_.

"Ok," Emma agreed, biting her lip hard to keep from tearing up. "I think...I think he'll really like that."

Next year their family would be plus one: Emma, Killian, and the baby.

"Is there anything else you need me or your mother to do to help?"

"Actually, yea. Can you tell Ian and Henry to move onto Phase Two of Operation Methuselah?"

"Methuselah? As in Killian? He's not _that_ old, is he? Wait, Phase Two? What was Phase One?" he said, then gasped. Emma heard faintly, " _You two let me win_!" as her dad pulled the phone away from his ear. Henry and Ian roared with laughter in the background.

"Did you put them up to this?" he asked her.

"Maybe a little," she said. "And on that note, how do you feel about helping them bake Killian a birthday cake, and then dropping them at the docks with $50?"

David sighed. "How could I say no to my favorite daughter and my two favorite grandsons?"

-

As Emma descended the stairs to the kitchen that evening, Killian's voice called up to her.

"Now are you going to tell me what this is all...about...you look stunning, love," he finished breathlessly as he caught sight of her. She had put on the black dress she'd worn for their date night, nearly a month ago. She was surprised she could still pull it off, as it fit a little differently over the baby bump which had grown slowly, but steadily, rounder and more obvious since Christmas. She was a little hesitant, a little self-conscious, but then she saw Killian swallow hard and fidget a little in his chair and she relaxed.

"Ian, er, said you wished to go out tonight," he said distractedly, eyes roaming over her exposed neck and shoulder, her breasts (also slowly but steadily growing). He was definitely recovered from his hangover. "He insisted I get dressed up. Made me put on the leather jeans. Tried to get me to put the long coat on, as well..."

Emma snorted. "Of course he did. So," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "aren't you going to ask me what the occasion is?"

"What's the occasion?" he asked, eyes still lingering at the plunging neckline of her dress.

"It's your birthday," Ian answered, entering the kitchen with Henry. They were carrying a large chocolate cake between them.

Killian snapped back to attention. His eyes, big and round with shock, flickered from the boys to the cake in their hands to Emma.

"How...how did you know?" he asked, with a strange edge to his voice -- anger, or pain, Emma wasn't sure.

"I told her," Ian said, and his bright, confident grin eroded Killian's glower in an instant.

"We weren't really sure how old you are," Ian continued. "Henry said you're 304, but I think you're older, so we compromised."

They carefully slid the cake onto the table in front of Killian. It was all chocolate, with _Happy 1,000th Birthday!_ written on it in blue icing.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

Killian's hand was resting on the table, clenching and unclenching.

"I haven't celebrated my birthday since Liam was alive," he said, and Emma identified the earlier emotion in his voice as _pain_.

"Liam was your brother, right?" Henry asked.

Killian nodded.

"And he loved you, right?"

Killian nodded again.

"If he was your brother, and he loved you, he'd probably want you to be happy, right?"

"Aye," Killian agreed quietly, and his hand stilled.

"Then we should celebrate!" Henry said with a broad grin.

Ian produced the package of candles and a lighter -- Emma had had to talk him out of using magic.

Killian eyed the items in Ian's hands warily. "My understanding is that the cake usually comes last," he said, rubbing behind his ear.

"Sure, if you want to be lame about it," Ian drawled.

Killian raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"We're sort of doing things in reverse tonight," Emma explained. "The four of us are going to have cake here. And then you and I are going to have dinner on the Jolly Roger."

" _Dinner_ ," Ian muttered to Henry, making quotations in the air with his fingers. Henry snorted.

"Really, you two? Maybe you're not _mature_ enough to stay here tonight all by yourselves. Maybe I should rethink asking your grandma to babysit," she said bitingly. She still hadn't forgotten Henry and Ian comparing the locations of their respective conceptions. The _least_ they could do was pretend they were unaware of her and Killian's sex life.

Ian and Henry looked down, chastised. Killian cleared his throat to hide a laugh, and Emma shot him a glare.

"Now, if we've all got ourselves under control again, let's get the candles on this cake."

Henry and Ian had decided that, since the cake was too small to fit 1,000 candles, the 24 that came in a single package would have to do. Emma and the boys sang "Happy Birthday" to Killian, and then he blew out the candles, blushing bright red as they clapped politely afterwards.

"Did you make a wish?" Henry asked.

"Should I have?"

"Dad, _duh_. You're supposed to make a wish before you blow the candles out. Now we have to do the whole thing over again."

Killian looked to Emma, but she just shrugged and said, "He's right. You have to make a wish."

"But I have everything I need right here," he said quietly. "What more could I want?"

"Your hand back?" Ian suggested. " A never-ending supply of leather conditioner? A haircut?"

"Ok, ok lad, I get it. Light the blasted candles again."

-

Emma and Killian hurried down the walkway to the bug. The weather had started to turn bitterly cold the past few days. As she reached the car, she turned to ask Killian if he wanted to drive, but found herself engulfed in a hug instead.

"Hey...hey, is everything ok?" she asked, arms going around him.

"Yes," he said against her neck. "Thank you, Emma. For all of this."

"Thank Henry and Ian," she said. "They did all the work."

He nodded and stepped back. Emma thought his eyes were looking a little moist, but it could have just been the moonlight.

"Here," she said, and offered him the keys.

Killian blinked at her, hand reaching out hesitantly. "Are you sure, love?"

"Of course," Emma said, and smiled. "You've been out with David like, what, more than ten times now, right?"

"Yes, but -- "

"But nothing," she said, cutting him off. "C'mon, Captain, show me how you handle a _land vessel_."

-

Ian waited by the window, peering carefully through the curtains.

"Are they gone yet?" Henry asked from behind him.

"Not yet," Ian answered slowly. "They're hugging. Ok, they're leaving-- no wait, they're standing there staring into each other's eyes. Oh my God, what weirdos. Ah, _now_ they're leaving." he said, and then snorted. "Dad's driving."

"I'll get my backpack," Henry said. "You get the flashlights."

Henry retrieved his backpack from upstairs, Ian fetched the flashlight from underneath the kitchen sink, and then he and Henry double-checked that they had everything they needed.

"Alright," said Henry. "Are you ready?"

Ian nodded, grinning. "Let's do this."

-

"So how old are you really?" Emma asked after dinner.

Killian smiled an embarrassed smile. "237."

"You've certainly aged well," she complimented, and they shared a laugh. They had actually gotten to finish their dinner this time -- spaghetti and meatballs again (Emma had been very specific). The gentle rocking of the ship, the dim lights, and the warmth had Emma feeling cozy and at ease.

Killian was watching her through half-closed eyes, a soft smile on his face. Emma took a deep breath, and asked, "Is when Liam was alive really the last time you celebrated you birthday?"

"Aye," he said, and for maybe the first time his expression didn't tighten at the mention of his brother.

"Are you...you're not upset, are you? That we sort of surprised you?"

"Of course not, Emma. It's just...it _was_ a surprise. My birthday's not something I've really thought about in a very long time."

"Ian was adamant that we do something to celebrate. You should have heard him," she said, smiling at the memory. "He really looks up to you, Killian. Henry does too. I think..." she hesitated, feeling the weight of what she was about to say, "I think Liam would be happy if he could see you now. I think he'd be proud of the man you've become."

Killian nodded and looked down, wearing that bashful smile of his, the one Emma loved causing. 

"I wish he could have met his nephews," Killian said quietly, and he raised his eyes to hers, watching her steadily. 

_Nephews._

Emma took his arm and drew him towards her, until she could rest her forehead against his. 

" _I love you_ ," she whispered.

"And I you, Emma," he said.

-

"Was my driving really alright, love?" 

"Mmhm," she said, nodding sleepily. They were lying in bed, beneath the covers. She was pressed against his side, head resting on his shoulder. He was playing with her hair, running the long strands through his fingers.

"We're going to have to get you a driver's license," she added.

"Do I need one?"

"Well, yea, what if we go outside of Storybrooke?"

"What would we do that for, love?" he asked. She noticed his careful tone, and propped herself up on one elbow.

"I'm not thinking about running," she said, kissing him gently, letting one hand linger on his jaw, stroking his beard.  "Just, you know, what if we go on vacation? Things work a little differently outside of Storybrooke. You're going to need some sort of identification."

"Is that something you'd like to do? Go on vacation?"

Emma sighed heavily. "Not so much for me as for Henry. He's never really seen any of this world apart from Storybrooke and New York...I'd like for him to see other things."

"Then that's what we'll do," he said, cupping her hand with his and squeezing her fingers. "After this whole thing with Zelena is done, we'll take a vacation."

 _Vacation._ Who was she kidding? But she nodded.

" _I'd_ like to see more of your world, as well," Killian added. "I'd like to see where you grew up."

"I grew up in a lot of different places," she said, shrugging.

"Still," he said, thumb stroking back and forth along her knuckles.

"Ian's probably going to want to see the world too," she said, suddenly struck by an idea. "We're going to have to take him to Minnesota. Or Canada. They're really big on hockey there."

"Yea?"

"Yea. I spent a big chunk of my childhood in foster homes in Minnesota."

"Did you ever play hockey?" he asked, with a little twinkle in his eye.

"Not really," she said with a laugh. "Just a little street hockey. There were some boys down the block who played all the time. They didn't treat me differently because I was a foster kid -- well, at least not after I showed them I could knock them on their asses -- so I hung out with them a lot."

 He had a strange expression on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing, Swan, just sometimes I realize there's still so much I don't know about you and it's...it's exciting."

He flashed her a grin, and she blushed. How long had they been together? _Together_ together. A year? It seemed like much longer. So much had happened.

"I'm yours," she said quietly. "Anything you want to know, it's yours."

He raised his hand to her face, brushed a finger along her cheek.

"Thank you, Emma," he said.

"But first," she said, capturing his hand with hers and pressing a kiss against his palm. "It's nearly midnight. Any last birthday requests?" 

He chuckled darkly.

-

When they pulled back up to the house around 1am, Emma was surprised to see all the lights on the first floor were on. Even if the boys were still awake, they'd either be in the den bingeing on video games or upstairs in Henry's room, and either way they both had enough common sense not to leave _all_ the lights on.

And then Emma noticed Regina's car parked by the curb.

"Fuck," Emma swore, and, not waiting for Killian to put the car in park and kill the engine, she jumped out of the passenger side door and raced up the steps, heart beating painfully fast in her chest. Killian caught up to her just as she reached the door and wrenched it open. Inside, they were immediately greeted by the sight of Ian and Henry sitting together on one side of the kitchen table, both staring fixedly at their hands, unable to meet her eyes. Across from them sat a very wrathful looking Regina.

"What's going on?" Emma asked without preamble.

Regina folded her hands and laid them on top of her crossed knees, then said, with complete composure, "I just found these two breaking into my vault."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked about Jackie's name. So her name is Jacqueline, which Killian and Emma got from when Henry suggested they could name their hypothetical future kid after Jack Sparrow. Since Henry technically sort of chose her first name, Killian and Emma let Ian sort of choose her middle name, and I'll reveal that at some point when I can work it in :D


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a few questions about this whole time-travel biz, and I haven't responded directly because everything's going to be explained int he story, and I want to keep some surprises. That being said, I can't explain it scientifically (that's ridiculous) but I will try to make it as reasonable as possible.
> 
> I feel like I've gotten better at writing since the beginning, and the problem with that is when I look back at old chapters I feel like crap because I missed so many opportunities for certain little scenes, for instance more interactions between certain characters, so I apologize for that, and I'm going to try and make up for it in the upcoming chapters.

"Can you shine the flashlight on the lock please? Thanks," Ian said, and knelt before the doors of Regina's vault.

"What are you going to do?" Henry asked, leaning in curiously.

"This," Ian answered, and removed the lock picks from his pocket -- well, fumbled them from his pocket. He'd like to have said he was clumsy because his hands were cold, but truthfully it was nerves: he had broken into Regina's vault a few times before, but the stakes had never been so high, and he had never felt so _desperate_.

"You're gonna pick the lock?"

Ian glanced up, slightly offended by Henry's tone.

"What did you think I was going to do? Kick the door down?" he asked. "Who do I look like? Mom?"

"Alright, alright. Sorry," Henry said, grinning, and nudged Ian with his foot.

Ian refocused on the door. This lock wasn't the same lock Regina had on her vault in the future: this one was cheaper, which could either be good or bad, depending on _how_ cheap. He had been discreetly sharpening his skills on doors all over town for the last  two weeks -- mostly at the house, but at the bar and the police station and Granny's as well. It had been a difficult task to manage with all the supervision he was under -- as if Zelena would appear the moment he wasn't under the watchful eye of an adult.

Ian stuck the tension wrench in the lock and turned it all the way to the right.

Henry leaned close again, watching intently. "Where'd you learn to do this?"

"Mom taught me," Ian muttered, tongue between his teeth. He inserted the rake pick over the tension wrench and began slowly and gently scrubbing at the pins. The first caught right away, and the second followed almost immediately, but the third eluded him.

" _Mom_ taught you?"

"Yea."

"I can't believe it!" he said with awe in his voice. "I've been begging her to teach me for a year!"

Ian blushed a little, and was grateful it was nighttime. It wasn't often he got to impress Henry -- not like this at least.

"She only taught me because she caught Uncle Will trying to teach me," Ian said. "I think she sort of thought I'd get into less trouble if she taught me the right way to do it, you know?"

"I bet she regrets that..."

"Oh, she does. I'm pretty sure it's her _biggest_ regret. Right after that one time she got dad to shave his beard."

"Killian without a beard?" Henry said incredulously. "I can't imagine..."

"You don't _want_ to imagine," Ian said. "He looks -- I don't know, he looks _soft_ or something. Like a baby in an adult's body. A big, pretty baby."

He still couldn't find the third pin, so he removed the picks from the lock, gave himself a little shake, and started over.

"Why don't you just use magic to open it?"

"Hm? Oh. Yea, I could do that." Ian answered distractedly. He was stuck on the third pin again. 

"So?" Henry prompted, after Ian was silent for a while. "Why don't you? If I had magic, I'd use it all the time."

Ian thought carefully for a moment. The simplest answer was that if he just used magic all the time, he wouldn't know other things like how to pick locks or tie (and untie) every nautical knot in the book or to use a sword, and if there was one thing he'd learned from his parents it was that surviving required _resourcefulness_.

It was foolish to rely on magic alone, because magic wasn't infallible.

"This way is more fun," he finally said, choosing not to disappoint Henry with the truth that Ian was sort of indifferent to having magic. Magic might be useful, but it was _boring_ ; learning it was like school but harder, and that wasn't even taking into consideration the fact that Aunt Regina was basically Professor Snape (except worse because she was the mother of the girl he had kissed once and would like to kiss again sometime).

The rake pick was jammed. Ian tugged on it, gently at first, afraid it might break -- when you had to secretly buy your own lock picks but you only had a $20 a week allowance, you had limited options in terms of quality -- but when it remained stuck, he put all his strength into it. It came loose with a weird metallic popping noise and he toppled backwards.

"It doesn't look like you're having fun," Henry stated dryly.

Ian shot back to his feet and seized the door handle. He was half a second from just blowing the lock off when he caught hold of himself. Dad always said never to give up on something just because you failed the first time.

He _also_ always said don't make decisions when you're angry.

Ian picked the locks picks off the ground, switched out the rake for the short hook, and knelt once more in front of the doors. Henry squatted next to him, keeping the flashlight trained on the lock.

"Are you sure you can get in there?" he asked, and when Ian glared at him, he added hastily, "I mean, um, without, uh, triggering some sort of alarm?"

Ian nodded. Regina had had to take down her other protection spells in order for Ian to put the new one up. That spell was strong (very, _very_ strong) but it was designed to keep _Zelena_ out, not two boys with a set of lock picks.

Using the short hook required more concentration. It took another ten minutes, and when the lock finally sprang he looked quickly to Henry, half in surprise, half in elation. Henry grinned, pushed the door open and went through. Ian tucked the lock picks back into his pocket before he followed, shutting the door behind him.

Inside the air was warmer, but it was eerily still and silent. Ian shivered. He scanned the room briefly with his flashlight before letting its beam fall next to Henry's on the stone sarcophagus.

"Ready?" Henry asked.

"Ready," Ian said.

They had talked endlessly about Operation Octopus and decided that, 1) There was no way Ian being here for a month hadn't seriously donked up the future, 2) To protect the future, everyone's memories of Ian needed to be erased, 3) There were too many people involved now for a simple Forgetting Potion to be the solution, 4) Henry and Ian needed to find that solution, and they had to at least attempt to do so without involving Emma or Regina, who already had a lot of other things to worry about.

Together, Ian and Henry put their shoulders to the sarcophagus and pushed. Stone scraped against stone as the coffin slid slowly to the side, revealing a staircase that disappeared downwards into darkness. Henry descended into Regina's vault first, Ian right behind him. Henry wove through the passages until they found the room with Regina's round-bellied cauldron set in a frame in the center and the creepy mirror Ian _hated_ on the wall.

"You're sure the Crimson Crown is here?" he asked, eyeing the mirror. He wished he had brought something to cover it with.

"Yea," Henry said. "It's here."

Ian turned his flashlight off.

Henry whipped around. "Hey -- "

Ian waved his hand, and the candles set in niches around the walls flickered to life.

"What? You're not going to light those all by hand?" Henry mocked.

Ian rolled his eyes. "Let's just start looking," he said.

Henry went immediately to one of the trunks set against the wall and began rummaging through it. Ian decided to search the niches and shelves.

"What's this thing look like, exactly?" he asked, moving along the wall, picking up and discarding an array of objects as he went.

"It's a toadstool -- you know, red cap with white spots. But it's all black and kind of shriveled now, so..."

"Burnt mushroom. Got it."

Ian checked inside every box and container, and even opened all the books to make sure none of them had secret hollowed-out centers. He had just uncovered a delicate silken bag of dead, dried-up, curled-up spiders when Henry exclaimed that he'd found the Crimson Crown.

"Good timing," Ian mumbled, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat, and put the bag back where he'd found it.

The moment Ian saw the Crimson Crown in Henry's hand, he knew it was lifeless as far as magic was concerned. Disappointment filled him. Using the Crimson Crown to talk to future Henry had been more than the solution to the problem of how to erase everyone's memories of Ian, it had been a way for Ian to feel a little bit closer to home, and he wanted to go home more than _anything_.

Henry's mouth set in a stubborn frown.

"We _have_ to try," he said.

Ian wanted to tell him it was useless, except...except his family wasn't exactly in the business of giving up, no matter the odds. He checked his watch. It had only been an hour since they'd left the house, so they had at least one hour left -- likely more. That was still plenty of time.

"Alright, we'll try," Ian said firmly. "Um, so...do you know how to do the potion for the communication spell, or am I going to have to try and guess?"

Finding the book Regina had written the spell down in (the book that had the picture of the Crimson Crown in it) required another search. He picked a book off the shelves at random and started flipping through it when he froze.

_No way._

"Henry!" he said urgently. "Henry, come over here. I think I found what we need."

Henry trotted over.

"That's not it," Henry said, shaking his head, "The book's -- "

"No, look!" Ian said, and shoved the book under Henry's nose. Henry's eyes narrowed as he focused on the words hovering two inches from his face.

"Um, a Memory Curse?"

" _Yes_!" Ian hissed, and he almost started laughing. He was jittery all over with excitement. "This is it! This is how we're going to erase everyone's memories! We're going to put a Memory Curse on Storybrooke!"

He snatched the book back and started reading over the directions.

"Are you sure?" Henry asked, a little skeptically. "This town sort of has a really bad history with Memory Curses..."

"Those weren't Memory Curses, those were the Dark Curse, which -- yes, okay, the Dark Curse is in part a Memory Curse...like, a nuclear Memory Curse with all this other extra garbage thrown in...but a pure Memory Curse is a little different..." he trailed off, already making a checklist of the preparations they needed to make. Most of the components for the curse could be found in Regina's vault, but some would need to be acquired elsewhere. "It actually looks easy. Some of the ingredients need to brew for a while, but it's pretty straightforward."

" _Ian_ ," Henry said.

"Yea?" Ian looked up from the book.

"How does the Memory Curse work?"

"Memory Curses draw out the real memories of a place or a person or an event. The Dark Curse gave everyone fake memories, but in Memory Curses, everyone's mind will sort of just fill in the gaps with other material. So, like, dad will still have the memory of us singing 'Happy Birthday' to him, except -- well, except it will just be you and mom there, instead of _me_ and you and mom."

Ian paused, struck by something he hadn't thought about before: his parents were going to forget him. _Forget him_ forget him, as if he had never been here.

"How am I going to keep my memories if I'm cursed along with everyone else?"

Ian's attention snapped back to Henry.

Later. He'd think about that other thing _later_.

"That's why I'm positive a Memory Curse is the right answer," Ian said. "The Curse needs a receptacle for the real memories. That's you."

"So I'm going to have everyone's memories of you?"

"Yep!"

"And then...what? I just hold onto them?"

"I guess. I mean, not _forever_. You can give them back eventually, you know, whenever I get home."

Henry was silent. Ian watched him, waiting, waiting for his decision.

Growing up, Ian had stuck to Henry like his second shadow, begging Henry to play pirates with him, take him to the park, tell him stories. He had always imagined Henry as a larger than life hero, just like mom and dad and grandma and grandpa. Now, he saw Henry was just a kid, like Ian was. And that made Henry _more_ brave than Ian had ever thought. Ian needed Henry for this. He couldn't do it without him.

Finally, Henry nodded, and Ian almost went boneless with a sudden rush of relief.

"Do you still want to try the communication spell?" Henry asked, brandishing the Crimson Crown.

"May as well try," Ian said. "We're here."

"Ok, we still need to find the book," Henry said. "Try looking -- "

A sound from above made them both freeze.

"Regina's here," Henry hissed.

" _Shit_ ," Ian swore. He snuffed the candles out, plunging them into darkness. Maybe if they just stayed quiet and didn't move...

"I know you're down here," Regina called. "I saw you through the mirror."

Ian gripped the book. They were going to have to sacrifice either the book or the Crimson Crown in order to keep the other a secret. Without hesitation, he ripped the page with the Memory Curse spell on it from the book, and stuffed it into his shoe.

"What are you doing?" Henry whispered.

"Hiding the Memory Curse," Ian whispered back. "It's that or the Crimson Crown."

"Ok," Henry said.

"Don't make me come down there. It will be worse for you two if I have to drag you out."

"We're coming," Ian called.

-

"I just found these two breaking into my vault."

"Um," Emma stammered, not really sure which issue to address first: the breaking and entering, or the fact that she was growing tired of coming home to find Regina in her house. The particularly miserable expressions on Henry's face and Ian's restless fidgeting decided her. "How long have you been sitting here?"

" _That's_ your first concern?" Regina asked scornfully. 

Ian's hand moved, subtly flashing her three fingers.

_Three hours?_

Emma felt Killian tense with sudden anger beside her.

"Why didn't you call us?" Emma said.

"They _begged_ me not to. Something about a birthday dinner."

Either Regina really had gone soft, or Henry and Ian had offered her something really, really good in return for her not interrupting Emma and Killian's date. Emma wondered if Regina had any idea she'd essentially just babysat the boys for three hours so Emma and Killian could have sex.

"Well, I'm going to make some hot cocoa," Killian said abruptly. He shed his jacket and strolled casually over to the stove. His tone was cheerful, but there was a tightness to his movements that betrayed his irritation. "Would anyone else care for a mug? Emma, love, I already know you're a 'yes'. Regina? No? You certain? Boys?"

"Yea. Thanks, Killian," Henry said.

Emma saw him briefly touch Henry's shoulder and Ian's head as he passed behind them.

"Can I have something to eat too, please?" Ian said, and yawned.

"I'm sorry, are we keeping you up?" Regina sneered.

Killian turned, but Emma got there first.

" _Regina_ ," she warned. A fierce possessiveness had risen up inside her. She'd accepted that her and Regina were co-parents when it came to Henry, but Ian...Ian was _hers_. Hers and Killian's. Emma intended to make that _very_ clear.

She slipped out of her coat and her heels, ignored the way Regina eyed her outfit, and took the seat across from Ian. Both he and Henry were very carefully not looking at her. Lying in the middle of the table was a set of lock picks and a blackened hunk of... _something_. Emma's eyes passed over the gross thing and lingered on the set of lock picks. She couldn't believe she'd never thought to confiscate them. She shifted her attention back to Henry and Ian. Whatever had gone down tonight was not the work of a single mastermind; it was a team effort.

Had they been acting secretive lately? Yes. Had she just assumed they were just being, well, _themselves_? Yes. Was she now beginning to realize that she should have paid closer attention? Double yes.

Emma waited until Killian had served out the hot chocolates (she was surprised he didn't set two mugs in front of her: one for her, and one for the baby) and sat down before she launched her interrogation.

"Alright, you two, let's hear it," she said, and took a long sip of her hot chocolate. Killian always made it with extra everything.

"And remember that you _promised_ to tell the truth," Regina said.

Henry and Ian glanced at each other -- probably deciding who was going to take the lead -- and then Henry spoke.

"We were looking for the Crimson Crown," he said, which explained what the shriveled lump on her kitchen table was.

Regina opened her mouth but Emma spoke over her. Regina may have raised Henry for ten years, but there were some things she was still stubbornly blind to, things Emma had learned from her time in New York with Henry. One of those things was that talking to Henry patiently and like an adult worked best, because even though he was too young to be expected to make decisions like an adult, he was too old to tolerate being spoken to like a child, and too intelligent for it besides.

And as for Ian, well, Ian was an open book. For Emma at least. She could see the differences their upbringing had made. Henry was cautious and calculated, while Ian really didn't seem afraid of anything. Emma knew that was partially his bold nature, and partially because his whole life he'd had a giant safety net -- Emma and Killian. Ian liked his fun, but behind his sunny smile was an equally bright mind.

"What were you going to use it for?" she asked.

"We wanted to use it to contact the future," Ian said. 

"Who did you want to talk to, lad?" Killian asked quietly.

"Anyone," Ian answered flatly. He glanced at her, and Emma saw a sort of sad guilt in his eyes, but a guilt that had nothing to do with breaking into Regina's vault.

He loved them -- Emma and Killian and Henry -- but he missed the _other_ them. He missed his home.

Regina made an impatient noise and said, "The future? The Crimson Crown is for communicating across magical barriers. Time isn't a magical barrier. It isn't a _barrier_ at all. Time just _is_."

"Oh," said Ian. "Wait, _really_?"

"I take it that means you didn't get to talk to anyone from the future?" Emma asked.

"Uh, no."

"You should have told us, lad," Killian said. "We would have figured something out together."

"I know," Ian said, and shrugged. "I just...I didn't want you to worry about me more."

Henry was looking at Ian helplessly, like he wanted to comfort him -- with words or a hug or _something_ \-- but wasn't sure what to do. Emma felt the same. Killian, on the other hand, _did_  seem to understand. His hand reached out and gripped Ian's forearm, and Ian visibly relaxed.

Emma felt herself smile. She saw this all the time between them -- that special connection -- Killian had fallen so easily into the role of "dad" that it was a wonder he'd ever doubted his fitness for parenthood.

Emma wished Henry could have had the same, from the beginning, but maybe...maybe it was enough that he had it _now_ , that he had Killian (and Robin and David) to be his father-figures.

"Regina, I think we're done here," Emma said, suddenly needing to be alone with her family.

"That's _it_?" Regina asked scathingly. "You're not going to punish your son for breaking into my vault?"

"Oh, he's going to be punished," Emma said. "I have the perfect punishment for him, actually. But how Killian and I discipline our son is not your problem."

Regina gave her a long look, which Emma returned steadily.

"Fine, but I'm taking Henry with me."

Emma nodded tightly. She had expected that.

"Could you give me a minute alone with Henry before you leave?" she asked.

"I'll be waiting in the car," Regina said, and left.

Emma walked with Henry to the door. Ian and Killian started conversing in low voices at the table.

"Are you sending me home with Regina because you're mad at me?" Henry asked.

"I'm not _mad_. You know I'm not mad. I'm -- "

"Disappointed," Henry provided.

Emma sighed. "Yea. What you and Ian did tonight...that was wrong. It doesn't matter what your reasons were. You shouldn't have done that. And you know how that makes Killian and I look, right? We look like a bad influence. You've been spending a lot of time over here with us and Ian, and now you guys broke into her vault together..."

Emma didn't want to say " _You know how Regina is_ ", but she thought it really hard in her head .

"I'm sending you home with Regina because I don't want to start another war over you, okay?"

Henry looked down, and Emma saw that he understood.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I know. I'm sorry too. For the whole situation," she said awkwardly, and reached out to straighten his scarf. "Look, this is going to take a few days to blow over. Maybe -- "

"Spend some time with Regina?"

"That. And maybe no more lawbreaking."

Henry grinned.

"At least not for a while," Emma added.

She hugged him, squeezing him tight, knowing it would be a few days before she saw him again.

"Mom?"

"Hm?"

"You're going to do everything you can to make sure Ian gets home, right?"

"Yea," she said. "We're not going to give up until he's back safe."

-

"Okay, out with it kid," Emma said, sitting back at the table.

"Huh?"

"C'mon. You know that I know that you didn't tell us the whole story, right?"

Killian took a sip of his hot chocolate to hide his smirk.

"Let's start off easy. What's the name of this Operation?"

Amusement danced in Ian's eyes. Emma knew _that_ look. She'd seen it on Killian a thousand times.

"Octopus," Ian answered.

Emma snorted. "Octopus, of course."

She had an image of a red octopus in a certain sleeping toddler's arms.

"Were you really just trying to contact the future?" she asked.

Ian was silent, chewing his lip.

"That was part of it," he admitted hesitantly.

Emma ran her fingers up and down the handle of her mug as she thought, choosing her next question carefully. She had a feeling she knew what this was about.

"Is the _other_ part a secret?"

"Yes."

"Does it _have_ to be a secret?"

"We're pretty sure it does."

"Is Operation Octopus necessary?"

"Yes," he said, and Emma knew it wasn't just his belief that what he and Henry were up to was necessary, it was a fact.

Henry always wanted to help -- to step up and be a hero -- and if he wasn't allowed to do so, he inevitably found a way to do what he thought needed to be done anyway. It was safer to give Henry and Ian a task than to forbid them from acting. All she had to do was establish parameters.

"Does Operation Octopus have anything to do with Zelena?"

Ian both shook his head.

"Words, kid, I need you to use your words."

"No," he said.

"Does Operation Octopus have anything to do with time travel?"

Ian hesitated, inner struggle evident on his face.

"Does Operation Octopus have anything to do with using the time portal?" she clarified.

"No."

"Is Operation Octopus going to put either you or Henry in danger?"

"No."

"Is Operation Octopus going to put anyone _else_ in danger?"

"No."

"Is Operation Octopus going to involve anymore breaking and entering?"

"Um..."

" _Ian_."

"It might," he said, and squirmed in his chair.

"How about," Killian suggested, "you agree to ask us for help should Operation Octopus require anything illegal or otherwise forbidden?"

"Okay."

" _And_ ," Emma added, "you have to promise to come to us if Operation Octopus becomes dangerous."

"I promise," Ian said.

"We're allowing Operation Octopus to continue only because we trust you and Henry to be responsible and not get yourselves or anyone else hurt, understand?" Killian said, leveling Ian with a dad-stare.

"I do."

"Don't let us down, lad."

"I won't."

"Alright then, now that that's settled," she said cheerfully, trying to lighten the heavy mood that had descended on their kitchen. "Are you ready to hear your punishment?"

"If I say 'no' does that mean I don't _have_ to be punished?" Ian grumbled.

"You're going to school with Henry on Monday," Emma said.

Ian's mouth dropped open.

"What? Why?"

"Because apparently you need something to keep you busy and out of trouble," Killian said.

"But... _school_ , really?"

"School," Killian said firmly, then, "Maybe you'll learn something useful like never to break into a place unless you have an exit strategy."

"I don't think they teach that at school, dad."

"But, really, kid," Emma added. "Your planning  _could_ use a little work."

"Are you volunteering to teach me?"

"What the hell, I taught you how to pick locks, so why not?"

Killian looked at her quickly.

"You taught our son how to pick locks, Swan?" he asked with a playful smile, then he said to Ian, "What _else_ has your mother taught you?"

"Um, not to be a telltale," he said, and stood up from the kitchen table. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight." 

"Wait, kid, hold on," Emma said. "Why don't you get your pajamas on and we'll all watch a movie?"

"Really? I'm not, like, grounded or anything?"

"I thought sending you to school was punishment enough. Do you _want_ to be grounded?"

"Nope," he said quickly, and started towards the stairs.

"One more thing," Emma called after him.

"Yea?"

"My phone is in my coat."

He blinked at her.

"You need to call Henry and tell him everything we just talked about, right?"

"Right," Ian muttered, and, grinning sheepishly, retrieved her phone from her jacket pocket.

"And put whatever you're hiding in your shoe someplace where it won't smell up Henry's whole room."

"Oh my _God,_  mom," Ian said, and sprinted upstairs.

-

They went to the den to watch Pirates of the Caribbean and eat leftover birthday cake.

"Sorry if I ruined your birthday, dad," Ian said quietly, poking listlessly at his slice of cake with his fork.

"There's nothing to apologize for, lad, this was the best birthday I've ever had."

"Really?"

"Truly. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. He was still looking down, but Emma saw that this time it was to hide a smirk. "Henry and I were going to get you a gift, but we couldn't find what we were looking for."

"No?" Killian asked curiously.

"Yea. We wanted to get you one of those t-shirts with the deep v-neck, you know? So that you could have your chest hair blowing in the wind; relive your glory days as a pirate and all that."

The room was dark, lit only by the glow from the television, but Emma was pretty sure Killian blushed.

-

"Can I ask you something?" Emma asked as she walked Ian up to bed. Killian was still downstairs, cleaning up their dishes from that evening.

"Mmhm," Ian said sleepily. He stumbled over to Henry's bed and flopped down on it.

"You and Regina don't exactly get along. Is that different in the future?"

"No, it's pretty much the same," he said, and his eyes drifted shut.

"Then why do I make you take magic lessons from her?"

"You don't _make_ me. It was my choice. I wanted to."

"Why? Oh, Ro -- "

"No, not _Rowan_ ," he said. "I wanted to do it because I want to be able to help you one day."

"Help me?"

"Yea. I'm going to be Sheriff too. So you don't have to fight all the bad guys alone all the time."

"I'm not alone. I have help."

"I'm not counting dad. I mean everyone else. They always rely on you. All the time. That's not fair. If I get really good at magic, then it won't have to be just you all the time."

Emma sat on the edge of the bed. "You're not supposed to take care of _me_ ; I'm supposed to take care of _you_."

"We're family. We take care of _each other_."

Emma reached out and brushed his hair off his forehead. He was already asleep. Killian found her there, her hand resting on Ian's cheek, and he took her to bed.

"Do you think it's time we start looking into other options for getting Ian back to the future?" Emma asked when they were snuggled up under the covers.

"No love, we have to wait."

"But -- "

"No," he said firmly. His hand found hers where it rested over her stomach, and he threaded his fingers through hers. "We can't afford to mess with the time portal. Zelena will come, and we'll be ready when she does."

Emma squeezed his hand, allowed herself to relax, to be comforted by his confidence. Killian would never stop fighting, and neither would she.

"What do you think Operation Octopus is?" she asked.

Killian chuckled, and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "I've no idea, but I expect we'll find out eventually. Did you really teach him how to pick locks?"

"Apparently. I guess that's how he got out of the handcuffs at the hospital. And into the police station that one time. And out of his cell."

She felt Killian's whole body go rigid.

"What is it?"

"I just remembered something he told me in the hospital, before I knew who he was."

"Hm?"

"He said...he said I once made him scrub the entire Jolly Roger top to bottom. As p _unishment_. What the bloody hell could he have done to warrant _that_?"

The horror in his voice made Emma burst out laughing.

"Well, I have no idea, but I expect we're going to find out eventually," she told him.

"You're cruel, Swan."

"You know you love me," she said, and turned in his arms to bury her face against his neck.

"I do," he breathed, and kissed her hair.

"Did you have a good birthday, Killian?"

"I did, Emma. It was amazing. You and the boys...thank you."

She kissed his collarbone in response.

"We seem to be having quite the series of nice moments, love."

"I just hope they last."

"Aye, me too."

-

_Seven years in the future_

It was nearing 6 o'clock and Killian was in the middle of serving a customer when his family entered the bar.

Will nudged him and jerked his head towards the door. "They're here, mate."

Piling through the door were Henry and Ian (the latter riding his big brother's back like a baby monkey), followed by Emma carrying Jackie, Mary Margaret towing Neal by the hand, and David. Bonny, who Ian insisted was part of the family and belonged at family parties, brought up the rear.

Emma reached the bar and Killian leaned across it to kiss her.

"How's it going?" she asked. She had that proud look on her face she always got when they talked about the bar -- even after all these years.

"Slow," he said. The Crow's Nest was usually dead on New Year's Day, but that was understandable considering the massive party that took place there every New Year's Eve.

"Here, can you take Jackie? I have to go peel Ian off Henry," she said, and passed Jackie over into Killian's arms.

"Hey there, little love," he said, settling Jackie on his hip.

"Hi," she said sweetly. Jackie was a quiet one (at her age, Ian had been babbling constantly -- mostly incoherently, but constantly), but she always managed to get her point across. She put one hand on either of his cheeks, leaned in close, and brushed her nose gently against his several times. Butterfly kisses, she called them.

She was a year and a half now, with blonde hair that Killian could already tell wouldn't stay as light as her brother's. She had her mother's greenish eyes and her father's long lashes, a deadly combination. Killian was going to be intimidating _a lot_ of teenage boys, one day. Not that he thought Jackie was going to need it; she already bossed her brothers and her uncle Neal around like the little princess she was.

"Happy Birthday, Killian," Henry said, sitting on one of the stools.

"Thank you, lad," he said, grinning. He pulled a beer from the cooler beneath the bar, popped the top off using the bottle-opener affixed to the counter, and passed it to Henry with a wink. Henry was 21 as of a few short months ago, and his mother and grandmother were still getting used to the idea of him drinking.

"Can I have one too, dad?" Ian asked, clambering onto the stool next to Henry. He was always eager to do exactly what his big brother did.

"Well, I'm not sure," Killian said. He shifted Jackie so he could lean on the bar with his elbow. He dropped his chin into his hand and peered at Ian thoughtfully. "How old are you?"

"Six!" Ian said, and his smile revealed his two missing front teeth.

"Well, I'm afraid you're not quite old enough for a beer," he said, and Ian's face fell so fast it was comical. Killian had to hide his grin in his hand. "I do, however, have a special drink for six-year-olds."

"Really?"

"Yes, but it's only for six-year-olds. Are you _certain_ you're six?"

"I'm sure!"

Killian  put some club soda and orange juice in a glass, added ice cubes, and a strawberry impaled on one of those little plastic swords, then passed it over to his son. He offered Jackie a strawberry, but she wrinkled her nose in disgust (she didn't like sour things, but Killian enjoyed teasing her) so he ate it himself.

"What about me?" Neal asked, jumping up to sit next to Ian.

"This is a special drink only for six-year-olds," Ian said coldly. "You're _seven._ "

Killian might have felt sorry for Neal -- and appalled by Ian's behavior -- if Emma hadn't texted him earlier and told him that Neal had hidden Ian's stuffed red octopus One-Eyed Jim and told Ian he was gone forever, sending them on a frantic search that spanned the entire afternoon.

But Neal was _family_ , and besides that, Killian believed that one day his little snot of a brother-in-law would change, so he served Neal his own special "only-for-seven-year-olds" drink.

"Mine's better," Neal told Ian smugly.

"Yours is _poison_ ," Ian hissed vehemently. "Because you're a jerk and my dad _hates_ you."

"Poison," Jackie added, mimicking Ian's tone.

Neal's eyes widened, and he suddenly looked like he might cry.

Killian was torn between intimidating the boy who bullied his son at least three times a week, and not causing a mere child to pee his pants in terror.

"He's only joking, Neal," Killian said calmly. "The drink's not poison. And I don't hate you."

Neal looked only mildly reassured. He slid timidly from his stool and went to stand beside Mary Margaret, slipping his hand into hers and peering cautiously back at them over his shoulder.

" _Ian_ ," Killian said dangerously.

"What? _You_ said I should stand up for myself when Neal's mean to me," Ian said, glaring up at him stubbornly.

"Yes, you should," Killian agreed. "But it's not okay to be mean back. I know you're angry with him, but that's no excuse to stoop to his level."

"Alright," Ian said. "I'll go say I'm sorry."

"To be fair," Henry said after Ian was out of earshot. "It did take a _really_ long time to find One-Eyed Jim."

"Between you and I," Killian said confidentially, "your uncle is a right little brat, and one day he's going to push Ian too far, and he's going to deserve whatever Ian does to him."

After they ate dinner -- takeout from Granny's, of course -- Emma revealed the cake.

"How old am I this year?" Killian asked, peering into the box. Each year his birthday cake had a different ridiculous number on it. Last year his cake had read 58, and the year before that 4,775. He wasn't sure how the tradition started, he just knew it _was_ tradition. " _Only_ 500? Cheers, boys!"

Henry and Ian laughed and high-fived. Killian hoped that when Jackie was older, she'd be more kind to him than her two older brothers were.

After the cake had been consumed, David and Mary Margaret herded the children, Henry, and the dog back to their house for a sleepover, and Emma and Killian walked to the Jolly Roger for a drink.

"Are you having a good birthday?" Emma asked. 

"Another one for the books," he said, and leaned down to kiss her nose.

"I have a birthday surprise for you," she said.

"Swan, you know you don't have to -- "

"You know that thing we've been talking about?"

"Yes," he said carefully. He was suddenly tense.

 "I'm ready," she said, and smiled softly up at him. Killian stopped and turned her in his arms.

"Are you sure?" he asked, searching her eyes. Ian had been a surprise, but Jackie had been planned, and he was looking for the same certainty in her now that she'd had when they'd discussed having Jackie. Their two children had already filled their life with an overwhelming amount of light and happiness, but when Jackie turned one, Killian had found himself feeling like he wanted to do it just once more. He wanted one more little cygnet. It just hadn't been the right time.

Until now.

"I'm sure," Emma said.

Killian almost shouted with joy. He kissed her, crushing her mouth against his in his excitement. She kissed back enthusiastically, teeth grazing his lips, and pressed close.

Were they going to start trying for their third child now, or...?

Killian pulled back, and said breathlessly, "Maybe we should save this for the ship."

She smirked up at him. "Yea, I guess."

He pulled her back against his side, and they continued their trek to the Jolly Roger.

"So, we're going to have another child. Another Jones baby," he said. He needed to say it out loud. He needed to say it out loud a thousand times.

"We're going to _try_ to have another kid," she said. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm not exactly as young as I used to be."

Killian snorted. "You could have fooled me, Swan. I'm still sore from last night."

She elbowed him in the ribs, and his laugh came out as a whoosh of air.

"What do you want this time?" she asked, as if she hadn't just warned him not to get ahead of himself.

Killian grinned. He _knew_ what he wanted. But all he said was, "No matter, as long as it's healthy."

And that was true too. But somehow he felt as if he already knew the outcome. He could picture her as if he'd already _seen_ her: another little girl with Emma's eyes, but this one with brown hair, more like his, and _curly_.

"Well," Emma said. "I want another girl."

Killian blinked down at her in surprise. "Really, Swan?"

"Yep," she said simply. "We've already got two boys, and I really don't think I can handle another Ian. I don't think Jackie could, either. I think it would be nice for her to have a little sister."

"Two little princesses," Killian said.

"Three," Emma corrected.

"Pardon?"

"I said 'three', Killian. Three princesses. You forgot to count me."

Killian roared with laughter. "My dear Swan, I'm so sorry. How could I forget the most important princess in my life?"

"Damn right," Emma said, and flounced up the gangplank to the Jolly Roger, forcing Killian to sprint after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to sort of keep the third little Swan-Jones baby a surprise until the end, but I got excited and my hand slipped. Also, I've said this before, but I promise the whole little-Neal-being-a-brat thing isn't because I hate him or anything. I'm setting up for the sequel I have planned, in which he needs to be a poophead for like the first three chapters.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD NEWS: There was an additional 4,000+ words that were originally in this chapter that got pushed to the next because SOME SECTIONS (glares) got really lengthy, so the next chapter should be ready in the next few days.
> 
> MORE GOOD NEWS: I'm done with my summer job, so I should be able to return to a more steady update schedule (I hope, but I ain't promising anything).

_5 years in the future_

"Would you like me to carry your backpack, lad?"

"Nope," Ian said, and bounced out the front door and down the front walk to the gate. Once there, however, he was forced to stop and wait for Killian to catch up.

Killian walked slowly, trying not to smile at the way Ian squirmed with impatience. He couldn't quite bring himself to increase his pace. Today was his boy's first day of school; it was a day which would change Ian from his and Emma's little boy into a "big boy", and Killian was in _no_ hurry for that to happen.

He knew it was the natural way of things for children to grow up, grow more independent, but he wasn't _ready_. It truly didn't feel all that long ago that they were bringing Ian home from the hospital, this tiny blue-wrapped bundle with a scrunched up face and loads of blonde hair, fluffy and soft as a duckling's. It had been more than five years since that day, however, and although Ian's hair hadn't changed much, he was now as tall as Killian's hip, he could ride a bike, count to one hundred, and climb onto the countertop to reach the Oreos Emma hid on the top shelf of the cabinet.

 _And_ he was about to become a big brother.

"Is mom okay?" Ian asked, reaching up for Killian's hand. Killian curled his fingers around Ian's smaller ones and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"Your mother's fine. She's just tired."

"Because of the baby?"

"Aye, because of the baby."

The truth was that Emma had been having contractions for a week, including some particularly strong ones the night before, and was resting in bed.

"Is Jackie going to come today?"

"No, probably not today. But soon."

Killian had suggested they go to the hospital, but Emma insisted it wasn't time, the baby wasn't coming. Killian was torn between needing to be there for Emma, and needing to be there for Ian, but before he could devise a plan to somehow accomplish both at the same time, Emma had threatened to remove his hook from its hiding place (it was hidden from Ian, who was inclined to use it as a prop to play pirates with) and disembowel him with it if he didn't take their son to his first day of Kindergarten. Killian was inclined to both trust her instinct and believe her threat was real.

"Are you nervous?" Killian asked, noticing that Ian's energy had diminished somewhat since they had left the front gate.

"No," Ian answered, but his concentrated frown and the death-grip he had on Killian's fingers told Killian otherwise.

"Is One-Eyed Jim nervous?"

Ian halted and pulled his head up to stare at Killian, completely shocked.

"He's in your backpack, correct?"

" _How did you know_?" Ian asked, in the voice that suggested he believed Killian had magical powers.

_Dad powers, perhaps. But alas, no magic._

"Well, Mr. Jim is five, and since all five-year-olds have to go to Kindergarten I assumed he'd be joining you."

"Mr. Jim isn't _five_ ," Ian said, nose wrinkling half in amusement, half in disapproval of Killian's apparent lack of knowledge.

"How old is he then?"

"Five _hundred_."

Killian fought back a laugh. "My mistake, lad. Please give my apologies to One-Eyed Jim."

Ian nodded seriously and continued trekking towards school, frowning no longer. Killian followed reluctantly, walking as if headed to the gallows. They were a block from the schoolyard, and he could already hear the horde of screaming, shouting children.

"So," he said, clearing his throat, unsure whether he was talking to distract himself or distract Ian. "What do you think you're going to learn in school today?"

"Mom said we're probably just going to do the rules and draw pictures of our families and stuff."

_Mom said._

Killian loved hearing any phrase preceded by "mom said".

_Mom said I can play hockey when I'm six._

_Mom said just because Neal told me to do it doesn't mean I should, and I need to start using my head and thinking for myself._

_Mom said One-Eyed Jim can't drink hot chocolate because chocolate makes octopuses sick._

_Mom said to ask you about how Jackie got in her tummy._

"You should draw a special picture for your mother," Killian suggested. "I think she's rather sad she couldn't -- "

"MOM!" Ian shouted, and started tugging Killian towards the street. The yellow bug was parked against the curb up the block from them, in front of the school, and lumbering out of it was Emma.

" _Bloody hell_ ," Killian growled, and raced to help her. "Emma, love, you should be -- "

"I know, I know," she said, cutting him off.  "I'm supposed to be in bed, but I couldn't miss this."

Ian was grinning from ear to ear. "I'm glad you came!" he said, and hugged her gently around her beach-ball-sized middle.

"Me too. I'm sorry I couldn't walk with you," she said, smoothing his hair back.

"It's okay. Do you feel better?" he asked.

"I feel _way_ better now that I get to see how handsome you look in your school uniform."

"Am I handsome like dad?"

"I think you look even _more_ handsome than dad," she said, and they both giggled.

"I _can_ hear you two, you know..." Killian said.

Emma grinned wickedly at him, then said to Ian, "Why don't you go stand by your dad so I can take a picture of my two handsome boys?"

"Ok!" Ian said, and dashed to Killian's side. Killian squatted down so their faces were level. Ian put an arm around his shoulder and leaned into him, and Emma snapped a few photos on her phone.

"Now go take some photos with your mother," Killian said, nudging Ian towards Emma.

"Ugh, Killian, no," Emma said. "I look terrible."

"No, love, you look beautiful. Isn't that right, Ian?"

"Yea!" Ian said brightly. "Your hair's like sunshine and you smell like flowers and you have a big tummy!"

"It's the tummy part I'm worried about there, bud," she said, but she stood squeezed together with Ian, smiling broadly, while Killian took a few pictures of his own.

A bell rang, and the schoolyard was plunged into chaos as children scrambled to locate their backpacks, kiss their parents goodbye, and find the correct line to stand in. Ian watched all this with interest, apparently bolstered by the sight of so many visibly eager children.

"Alright, we don't want you to be late for your first day. You ready to go?" Emma asked Ian.

"Mmhm!" he answered.

Emma and Killian each took one of their boy's hands, but instead of walking towards the school, Emma led them off to the side, to a bench.

"I gotta take a break, kid," she said, sitting down. "Jackie's _heavy_."

Killian, who had seen Emma chasing full-tilt after the Wicked Witch while just as pregnant as she was now, knew it for an excuse to have one more quiet, private moment. Emma took Ian's hands between both of hers and beamed at him, a smile that was complete love and devotion, a special smile Emma reserved for Ian and Henry.

"You know me and your dad love you, right?" she said.

"I know," Ian said.

"You know we'd go to the end of the world for you?"

"Yea."

"Or time," Killian added.

"Like Marty McFly?"

"Yes, lad, like _Marty McFly_ ," Killian said. It seemed it wasn't enough that Emma teased him; his son had to do it too. He tickled one of Ian's ears, making him giggle and squirm. "What your mother's _trying_ to say is you don't have to be nervous, because you're never alone. We're always with you."

"You are?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"Yes, we're right here," Killian answered, and touched Ian's chest, over his heart. "If you ever feel sad or lonely, remember that, alright?"

Ian nodded solemnly, one hand resting lightly over the spot on his chest Killian had indicated.

"Now, give your mother a kiss goodbye and let's get you inside before they think Killian David Jones doesn't exist."

-

Killian returned from walking Ian to his classroom, to find Emma crying silently on the bench.

"C'mon, love," he said, reaching for her hands, fighting back tears of his own. "Let's get you some ice cream."

"Okay," she said, sniffling. She grasped his hands and he levered her off the bench.

"Hansel and Gretel's?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. They had the best ice cream in town, and for the past few months Emma had been their most valued customer. Emma said it was because she wanted to help the two 20-year-old "kids" succeed, that she had a soft spot for them, but Killian knew the truth was that she and the baby were particularly fond of Ava and Nicholas's rocky road.

"Yea," Emma said, wiping at her eyes. "I want to get Ian some ice cream too. For home."

"Of course," he said, putting his arm around her.

She laid her head on his shoulder, and said, "Killian?"

"Yes, love?"

"I miss him already."

He swallowed hard. "Aye, me too. Let's get into the car before I start crying as well. The sight of two adults bawling on the sidewalk is sure to upset the children."

-

"Did you remember to double-check his backpack this morning? Make sure he has everything?" Emma asked when they had settled into one of the tables on the sidewalk outside Hansel & Gretel's.

Killian was grateful for her question, grateful for anything to avoid thinking about how their little boy was five and going to school and _growing up_ and didn't need Killian anymore, not in the same way at least.

"Aye," he said. "He's got all the required supplies plus one red octopus." He tentatively extended his spoon towards the pint of rocky road Emma had perched on her belly. Emma side-eyed his spoon, but magnanimously tilted the container towards him, allowing him access. "Does he really need all those things?"

"Yea, they were on the list."

"Metallic markers weren't on the list, love. I checked."

"I _know_. But he likes them. The old ones are all dried up because he used them so much. Did you see that robot shark he drew? Plus, do you know how many friends he's going to make with those markers?"

"I don't know...are markers some sort of toddler currency?"

"Something like that."

"So you're saying our son's going to bribe other children into being his friends using metallic markers?"

"Alright, alright. It sounds _really_ bad when you say it. Did he really bring One-Eyed Jim with him?"

"He did."

Emma shook her head, and started scrolling through the photos she'd taken earlier on her phone.

"He's adorable," she cooed.

"That's because he takes after his father," Killian said smugly, and Emma smiled her " _you're a dork_ " smile.

She was silent for a while, eating through her pint of rocky road slowly, spoon in one hand, phone in the other. Killian let her have her space, but he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She had scrolled past the recent photos in her phone, and managed to find some from several years ago, when Ian was still a toddler, a chubby little cherub with thick, wavy blonde hair and the _sunniest_ smile.

"Do you think he's going to start changing?" she asked quietly.

"Of course he will," Killian said. He said it lightly but that bit of knowledge weighed heavily upon him, like an anchor crushing his chest. "He's been changing since the day he was born, Emma."

"I wish he didn't have to," she said quietly, putting her phone to the side. Her eyes were brimming with tears again.

"I wish he didn't have to either -- I wish I could protect him from all the scary, hard things he'll have to face in life -- but I also know that wishes don't change the fact that he's not a baby anymore. We can't shield him from the world. He's going to start discovering who he is, and who he wants to be. He's a smart boy, Emma, and he's tough like you --  " he ran the back of one finger over her cheek, and she turned her head to press a kiss to it " -- and I've no doubt Ian will find it within himself to be _exactly_ the kind of man he wants to be one day."

"A pirate who's also the Sheriff and a comic book writer," Emma said, grinning, tears gone.

"Don't forget professional hockey player and octopus tamer," Killian added, then laid his hand over Emma's belly, careful not to upset the pint of ice cream, and asked, "What do you think this one's going to want to be?"

"A pirate," Emma said confidently. "Just like her dad and her brother."

"Not a princess?" Killian said, a little disappointed.

"Oh, she's a princess no matter what. But she'll be a pirate, too."

"A pirate who likes yellow," Killian said with a smirk. Ian had proclaimed that Jackie's favorite color would be yellow, and Killian believed him -- he'd shown more than once that he'd inherited his mother's intuition.

Emma laid her hands over his. Killian entwined his free hand in her ponytail, playing with the long, blonde strands. Ian had her hair, and he hoped Jackie would too.

"Did you know that sex helps induce labor?" she asked suddenly.

"I _do_ know that. And the answer's no."

" _C'mon_ , Killian. I'm ready for this kid to be born already."

Killian sighed. "I am too, Swan, but she'll come when she's ready, and not before. We need to relax and _enjoy_ the waiting. We didn't exactly get to be patient with Ian."

Killian still had nightmares, sometimes, about Ian's birth, about how _scared_ he'd been, about how scared _Emma_ had been, and how he'd worried he'd failed both her and their son. He was beyond grateful that this pregnancy had progressed normally and without any supernatural danger looming over them. The relatively peaceful years that followed Ian's birth had been much needed. Emma and Killian had spent that time doing what they should have had time to do before: getting to know each other, adjusting to their life together. Ian had fit into their lives naturally. He'd made them a family, filled their days with light, but it hadn't been until recently that they had finally felt ready to bring another life into their own, to extend their little family. With Jackie.

"I guess you're right," Emma said, and stared forlornly into her empty container of ice cream.

"Would you like me to get you another one, love?" Killian asked, biting the inside of his lip hard to keep from smiling.

"No. I honestly can't fit anymore ice cream in me. Even Jackie's had enough. Can you get a pint for Ian though?"

"Of course. Pistachio?"

"Strawberry," Emma said, face scrunched up in the same expression Ian had worn earlier.

"I know, I was just testing you," he said, and kissed her nose.

 --- 

_Now_

On Monday morning, Killian walked into the kitchen to find Emma writing on the calendar taped to the refrigerator. He stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, hand and hook joining her hands where they already rested on her stomach.

"What are you writing, love?" he asked. "What's at 3:00 on January 20th?"

"That's our 16-week checkup," she said.

"So that makes _this_ Week 14?"

"Mmhm," she said, leaning into him. "Tell me all about Week 14."

"Well,"  he said softly. "Little Killian's about the size of a lemon now. He can suck his thumb, make facial expressions -- "

"Probably practicing his smirk," Emma interjected.

"Aye," Killian agreed with a smirk of his own. "He's likely doing it right now, as we speak."

"He knows we're talking about him," Emma said. "Ok. What else?"

"His arms and legs are starting to move around more, although you probably won't be able to feel him yet..."

"I didn't feel Henry moving until I was about 25 weeks," she said.

Killian pressed a gentle kiss behind her ear. He knew she didn't share information like that easily, and he wanted her to know how grateful he was for every detail she divulged, no matter how small.

"The pamphlets said you might be able to feel movement in your second pregnancy sooner than in your first," he said.

"I hope so," she said, and one of her hands shifted to grip his.

She was silent, so he continued. "Little Killian's also developing hair. Erm, all over his body."

Emma giggled. "Hairy like his dad."

Killian ignored her.

"Supposedly he'll shed it before he's born, but sometimes not until after he's a week old," he said, then added thoughtfully, "He doesn't seem overly hairy to me, so I guess we don't have to worry about people thinking we're raising a monkey-baby."

" _Or_ ," Emma said, "he just shaves every day and we haven't noticed."

"He's barely in the shower long enough for the soap to have any effect, Swan. I think we'd notice if he was taking the time to shave. I don't understand his aversion to bathing. Was Henry like this in New York?"

"Yea, it's just a teenage boy thing," Emma said, shrugging. "He'll figure out eventually that girls like you better when you smell nice more than twice a week."

"And in the meantime -- "

"In the meantime we have to threaten him with walking the plank or whatever to get him to wash his armpits, yea."

"Walking the plank?" he asked in mock outrage, though secretly he was charmed by her attempt. "That's a flagrant misuse of pirate -- "

"I know, I know," she said, giggling. "I already regret it. Tell me what else is happening in Week 14."

"Let me think...," Killian said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Oh! _You,_ my dear Swan, should be getting your energy back soon. And your breasts should be feeling less tender -- let me know when you'd like me to test either of those out for you."

Emma snorted. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Yes. You should start showing," he said, and slid his hand beneath her shirt to touch the bare skin of her belly. The 'baby bump' (as Emma called it) had made its appearance almost two weeks ago, although it was so slight that Killian believed the only reason he'd noticed it at all was because he'd been looking for it, anticipating it. It was _exciting_ , seeing the physical evidence of the life growing inside Emma. But perhaps the _most_ exciting part was the way Emma's hand would fall to it every few minutes without her realizing it. He loved seeing the soft expression that came over her face then, how still and quiet she would become sometimes, as if listening.

He nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and hair, flooding his senses with _her_. She turned her head and smiled at him, and he caught her lips in a kiss. Her mouth was warm, and she tasted like the herbal tea she'd taken to drinking in the morning in replacement of coffee. He had it in mind to take her back upstairs when there was a sudden thundering on the stairs. Emma and Killian broke apart and turned to see Ian bolting towards the front door.

"Whoa, kid! Hey! Pump your brakes!" Emma said, and Ian skidded unsteadily to a halt. He managed to catch the door handle just in time to keep himself from crashing to the floor.

"What?" he asked breathlessly. His hair was still damp from the shower and sticking up in odd places.

"Where _exactly_ do you think you're going?" Killian asked, although it was a foolish question. Even if he hadn't known it was Ian's first day of school, the Storybrooke Elementary uniform and the backpack would have provided the necessary clues.

"School," Ian said.

"School?"

"Yea, _school_. You know. That place. That you're making me go to. Because you don't love me."

"Is the name 'Killian Jones' just synonymous with being overdramatic?" Emma said.

"I beg your pardon?" Killian said. He wasn't _dramatic_.

"Did you have breakfast?" Emma asked Ian, ignoring Killian.

"Um..."

"How about lunch? Did you pack one?"

"No, I didn't -- "

"Yea, I figured. The paper bag on the counter's for you," Emma said.

Looking chastised, Ian slunk over to retrieve the bag, then started edging back towards the front door.

"You know," Killian said, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "you seem _awfully_ eager to get to school for someone who doesn't want to go in the first place,"

"Henry," Ian replied simply.

"Ah. You mean Operation Octopus," Killian said, smirking.

Ian, now as with the handful of other times Killian had brought up Operation Octopus, was silent. Killian was intensely curious about what the boys were up to. Part of him was proud of the way they were taking initiative, and part of him was frightened they were going to get themselves hurt.

Villains didn't play by the rules, which is what made them so dangerous, although most would never harm a child. Zelena, however...she was completely unhinged and totally single-minded. She had nearly killed Henry once, and Killian was certain she wouldn't hesitate to hurt either of the boys, if they got in her way. In fact, if Killian was honest with himself, he was certain harming Ian, either the 13-year-old version or the 14-week-old version, was high on Zelena's to-do list.

Emma cleared her throat. "Let's see your new uniform."

"Mom. This isn't _really_ my first day of school," Ian complained

"It is for me," she said. A comb appeared in her hand and she offered it to Ian. "You do it or I do to."

"Or I could do it," Killian suggested.

"Dad, I don't think I've _ever_ seen you use a comb."

"I assure you I have."

"Alright," Ian said, amused. He handed the comb to Killian and stooped down slightly so Killian could reach his hair more easily. "Are you sure you remember how to do it? It looks like it's been a while since you had short hair."

 "Oh, I remember," he said, and flashed Ian a devilish grin. Ian's hair seemed to behave much the same way Killian's did, so it wasn't difficult for Killian to accomplish what he had in mind. The whole thing made Killian nostalgic for shorter hair. Perhaps a haircut _was_ in order.

Afterwards, Ian examined himself in the mirror on the wall over where the coats hung. "I look like you," he said, but he didn't sound disappointed.

"You're welcome," Killian said, and returned the comb to Emma with a smirk.

"Do I look okay, mom?"

"You look very handsome," Emma said reassuringly, smiling and tucking he comb into her pocket. "Now stand still. And _smile_."

Ian rolled his eyes, but he stood patiently as Emma snapped a few photos with her phone.

"Please don't send those to grandma and grandpa," he said when she was finished.

"Already did," Emma answered, and Ian groaned. "C'mon, let's go."

"Go? Are you guys walking with me?"

"Mmhm," Emma said. "We can grab breakfast at Granny's on our way. And I thought we could take the car since it's, you know, about zero degrees out."

Killian drove them to Granny's for donuts, which they ate on the way to the school. It was nearing 8 o'clock, and the schoolyard was empty. Killian assumed most of the students had gone directly inside, seeking warmth. Killian expected Ian to leap from the car as soon as it was parked against the curb, but he remained inside.

"Are you nervous?" Killian asked, turning around in his seat.

"No," Ian said stubbornly, but Killian could read the boy well enough by now to know he was lying. He had Emma's frown.

Emma turned too, and said, "I hope you're ready to have the 7th grade girls of Storybrooke crawling all over you."

Killian could feel Ian's incredulous expression mirrored on his own face.

" _What_?" Ian said.

"Yea! You're the _new kid_. That's exciting in a small town like this. Everyone's going to want to know _everything_ about you."

"Really?"

"Yep. You're going to be a celebrity."

Ian's cheeks blushed a faint pink.

"I hope you used soap in the shower this morning, though," she teased, "because if you smell anything like you smelled last night -- "

" _Mom_!" Ian growled, and his cheeks turned from pink to bright red.

"Alright, alright. You have everything you need? Yea? Ok, remember Henry's here too, so if you need--"

"Can Henry come over after school?" Ian blurted.

"I don't think that's gonna happen, kid. Give it a few more days, ok? Maybe he can sleepover on Friday."

Ian nodded glumly.

"I'm going to pick you up from school," Killian told him. He knew he wasn't quite as fun as Henry, but he could still be _fun_. "You and I can spend some time together."

"Can we go to the ship?" Ian asked quickly. "I mean, I know it's too cold to go sailing, but you said you need to check on her, right?"

Killian grinned. "Of course," he said, trying not to sound overly eager. He saw Emma's knowing smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Cool. Alright, see you guys later! Love you!" he said, and then he was sliding from the car and racing across the schoolyard.

-

"It sounded as though you were speaking from experience, Swan," Killian said as they drove home. "About being new at school..."

"Yea," she said, glancing at him. "I was the new kid a lot."

"And were you ever a _celebrity_? Awash in teenage boys?" he teased.

She smiled, but then she shrugged. "Kids were usually interested at first."

"At first?"

"Until they figured out I was a foster kid," she said. There was something in her tone that caught Killian's attention.

"Did anyone give you trouble?"

"A few."

"What happened?"

"I already told you. Once I showed them I could knock them on their ass, they respected me -- well, they left me alone at least."

"You didn't try to -- what's the phrase? -- _use your words_?" Killian asked, using something he'd heard Regina telling Henry once.

"Yea, well, unfortunately that doesn't always work. _Especially_ not with teenage boys."

"I know what you mean," Killian huffed.

"What about you?" Emma asked. "Did anyone ever bully you?"

"Something like that," he answered slowly.

"Oh?"

He shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat. He didn't like to reminisce about the past, when his anger ruled him. Emma laid her hand on his thigh, and said, "You can tell me."

At her touch, the tension left his body.

"You know that when I was a boy, my father sold me and my brother into servitude? To Captain Silver?"

"Yea," Emma said quietly, and squeezed his thigh bracingly.

"Captain Silver sent Liam and I to a tutor. _Not_ because he was a nice man, Swan," he said, because he saw the look on her face. "Don't imagine that he was anything less than cold and cruel. He sent us to a tutor because it was required by law, else he would have had to pay a penalty fee. Anyway, there were a few other boys in our class, boys from better situations and better families than us. Boys that hadn't been sold into servitude by their fathers, in short."

"And they didn't hesitate to make it clear you didn't belong," Emma said, and Killian knew again she was speaking from experience, speaking from her own past.

"Aye, and they were very vocal with their opinions about where Liam and I _did_ belong," Killian said.

"Get into any fights?"

Killian smiled ruefully. "A fair few," he said. "I didn't have as thick a skin as Liam. Or as much sense."

"And what happened?"

"Well, I always won the fights, but I also always ended up being the only one punished for them, so I'm not really sure if that counts as a victory," he said. He left out the part where, as grueling and humiliating as the punishments had been, they were _nothing_ compared to Liam's disappointment.

"What was your punishment? Did they make you walk the plank?" she asked, and he recognized the attempt to lift his spirits.

"We didn't go to school on the ship, Swan. It was considered bad luck to have boys on ships, so we lived in town with a few of Captain Silver's associates until we were 18. Well, until Liam was 18. I was still only 16, but they knew if they left me behind I'd likely get myself killed, so they risked the ire of the sea gods and -- _what are you smiling at_?"

"It's hard to imagine you as a kid. I keep picturing Ian but with dark hair," she said, nose wrinkling in amusement.

"You're not far off," he said. "Just add a scowl."

She smiled. "I really like hearing about you as a boy."

He looked at her skeptically. "You sure about that, love?"

"Yea," she said, locking eyes with him, gaze steady. "I want to know everything about you, Killian. Good _and_ bad."

Killian nodded, eyes on the road. His chest was suddenly tight with emotion. Opening up -- revealing his past, admitting to the type of person he'd been -- it was _still_ difficult, every time. But Emma made it easier. He knew she accepted him. He knew she accepted _every_ part of him.

"You don't think anyone's going to give Ian a hard time, do you?" Emma asked, after a while. Killian turned a corner and the Sheriff's station came into view.

"I don't think so, Swan."

"I _hope_ not, because he doesn't seem like the type of kid who's going to take any shit from a bully."

"Just like his mother," Killian said, grinning.

" _And_ his father," Emma reminded him.

"I just hope he has more sense than I did when I was his age."

"I'm going to go ahead and say I think he does."

Killian laughed. "Thank you, Swan."

He pulled up in front of the station and carefully put the car in park before removing his foot from the brake pedal. Emma had told him he needed to take a driving test before he could be issued a license, and not performing all the proper functions at all the proper times would result in a failed test and no license.

"Tell Marco and the dwarves I said hi, okay?"

"Okay, love. Ian and I will pick you up around dinnertime."

"Sounds good. I love you," she said, and kissed him.

-

"Why 'Octopus'?" Killian asked Ian later that day. They were having an after-school snack at the Fish & Chips place on Main Street before heading to the Jolly Roger.

"No, this is squid," Ian said, gesturing with a piece of fried calamari before popping it into his mouth. Killian had been pleasantly surprised to discover that the boy liked seafood, unlike his mother.

"I meant Operation Octopus. Why 'Octopus'?"

Ian and Henry had been in the middle of a heated conversation when Killian showed up at the school to pick Ian up. Despite how he burned with interest, Killian had given them their space, assuming it was something to do with Operation Octopus.

"Oh. It was sort of an accident. Henry suggested it, and I really like octopuses, so I said yes."

"What do you like so much about octopuses?"

Killian had only had a few encounters with an octopus outside of the ones served up in taverns, but from what he could tell they were strange, otherworldly creatures, bordering on disgusting.

"Um, _everything_ ," Ian answered, and he started talking excitedly, the way Henry sometimes did when he was describing the newest issue of his favorite comic book. "Did you know they can fit their whole body through any hole their beak can pass through? There was an octopus at an aquarium that got out of its tank in the middle of the night and escaped through a drain pipe in the floor. And they're really, _really_ smart. Like, they can solve puzzles and Rubik's Cubes and stuff."

Ian commandeered his phone as they left the Fish & Chips place, and by the time they had walked to the harbor, Killian had seen enough "Youtube" videos to give him a new appreciation for the eight-legged creature.

"I had no idea they were so impressive," he said, as Ian handed him back his phone.

"You learn something new every day," Ian said, and grinned. Killian was certain he'd heard Emma use that same phrase, once, so he was fairly certain the boy wasn't mocking him.

As soon as they stepped foot aboard the Jolly Roger, Ian started scuttling up the rigging on the mainmast.

"Careful," Killian warned. "Your mother will kill me if you get hurt."

"Don't worry," Ian said, and continued climbing. Killian watched in awe, head tilted all the way back, as Ian climbed fearlessly to the top, all the way to the crow's nest. There he hunkered down, legs dangling through the vertical railings, to stare out at the sea. Killian didn't know whether to be scared, or proud, or both.

"Come on up!" Ian called.

"In a moment, lad," Killian said, settling on _proud_. "I need to check the ship. Are you going to help me, or stay up there?"

"Stay up here!"

"Why did I bother asking," Killian muttered, though he smiled to himself. The sea had been part of Killian's life for as long as he could remember, he had been nervous Ian might not share the same love for it he did, nervous it might have disappointed him. But now he knew that was something they would share, and that made his whole body feel lighter.

He was pleased to see the Jolly Roger was doing just fine. She had survived much, so he wasn't surprised she was handling the cold and ice with ease. He opened the windows to circulate fresh air through the cabins, checked for signs of mice or other unwelcome intruders, then joined Ian on the crow's nest. He climbed much slower than the boy had, and with a little less fearlessness, and he cursed himself for being out of shape. He'd need to remedy that, and soon.

His irritation disappeared, however, when he reached the top and sat next to Ian. The view was truly fantastic. It was a perfectly clear day, with only a few wispy white clouds marring the crystal blue of the sky. The sea was a slightly deeper cobalt, stretching out calm and flat as far as the eye could see.

"It's beautiful," Killian said.

"Yea," Ian agreed. His eyes were bright, reflecting the cerulean sky. "The crow's nest is my favorite place. If there're enough hands on deck, you let me ride up here when we sail."

"Does your mother know?" Killian asked.

Ian made a sound that wasn't quite a 'no', but definitely wasn't a 'yes'.

"Do we go sailing often?"

"All the time."

Killian wanted to ask if Jackie liked sailing too, but held himself back.

"How was school?" he asked instead.

"It was fine," Ian reported. "I've already done all the stuff we're about to cover though. It's January here but it was April at home."

"How about the other students?" he asked carefully, thinking about his and Emma's conversation from earlier. "Any problems?"

"No. Mom was right: everyone was really curious."

"Do they know you're from the future?"

"I didn't tell them. Mom said I shouldn't."

Killian nodded in agreement.

"It's sort of weird seeing people I know as adults as kids," Ian said thoughtfully. "All I can think about is how they're all twice my age."

"What's the matter, lad? You're not into _older_ women?" he asked, nudging Ian with his elbow.

"Dad, ew," Ian said, but he was blushing.

Killian chuckled. "Alright. What about homework?"

"What about it?"

"Do you have any?"

"Yea. A lot. _Already_. Can you help me with my math homework? I need you to explain percentages again."

"Again?"

"Yea, you helped me before but I never really got the hang of them. I _barely_ passed that test. And now I have to do them _again_."

"Of course, lad," he said, warmed by Ian's request. He had helped Henry with his homework a few times before, and he enjoyed it, that particular type of bonding. He enjoyed sharing his knowledge, as it were. It was moments like those -- moments when he saw pure admiration in Henry's eyes, or heard the pride in Ian's voice -- that he was able to _believe_ that he was a good man. Believe the way Emma believed.

They stayed up there nearly twenty minutes, chatting and enjoying the view, until Killian started feeling the cold seep into his bones. And if he was cold, Ian was likely colder.

"Aren't you cold?" Killian asked, noticing the pink of Ian's cheeks and ears. He mentally chastised himself for not being more observant. "Where's your hat?"

"It's in my backpack."

"What use is it in your backpack?"

"It's keeping my books warm? You don't wear a hat! Or gloves or anything like that!"

"Yes, but _I_ have the benefit of a life at sea. I'm _used_ to the cold. You, my little land lubber -- "

Ian gasped, horrified, and Killian roared with laughter.

"I'm only joking, lad," Killian said, when he had control of himself. "Now, we're leaving before you freeze to the mast. Go down ahead of me."

The climb down was more difficult than the climb up had been; Killian's hand was nearly numb, and he had trouble gripping the rigging firmly. Ian was waiting for him on the deck, shivering miserably. Killian fished the boy's hat out of his bag and stuffed it onto his head.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" he sighed. "Your mother has magic, you know that, right?"

"I'm f-f-fine," Ian stuttered. "Here, look."

He held his hands out, palms cupped together, and red fire appeared -- not the flickering orange and yellow of ordinary fire, but a deep crimson flame. The heat from it was incredible, and warmed Killian all over almost instantly.

"See? Better," Ian said, no longer shivering. He dropped his hands, and the fire disappeared.

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" Killian asked gesturing for Ian to proceed him down the gangplank.

Ian shrugged. "I didn't want to accidentally set the mast on fire."

"Fair point," Killian said. "Does this qualify as one of the easy spells you sometimes overdo?"

"No, it qualifies as magic that's so dangerous Regina told me never, ever to try it."

Killian stared.

"You're joking?"

"Not really," Ian said, ducking his head.

"It's _forbidden_ , and yet you're using it?" Killian couldn't keep the slight edge out of his voice. "I'm beginning to feel as if your mother and I need to have a conversation with you about using your magic properly."

Ian was suspiciously silent.

"I've _already_ had that conversation with you, haven't I?"

"Yes."

"Do we need to have it again?"

"Nope, once was enough. Besides, m _om_ was the one who said it's okay. That fire."

"Your mother? I thought Regina was teaching you magic?"

"She is, but that doesn't mean mom doesn't teach me things too. Her magic's more like mine, anyway. Sometimes Regina doesn't make sense, but mom does."

"Oh?" Killian asked, curious.

"Yea. Regina's magic is based on studying theory and learning formulas and _precision_. Mine and mom's is more based on _instinct_ , you know? Like, _feeling_ the magic. Mom can do the fire thing, but Regina can't."

"You're saying Regina forbid you from using that crimson flame because she doesn't understand it?"

"Basically. Yea. Anyway, that fire's fine as long as it's not black."

"What happens when it's black?" Killian asked cautiously. He felt strongly as if he didn't _really_ want to know the answer.

"Then it can't be stopped until it burns everything it touches to ash."

"Mm, sometimes I forget how charming magic is," Killian said, with false cheer. Raising a child with magic -- raising _this_ child with magic...what had they gotten themselves into?

"Are you...does it bother you? That I have magic?" Ian asked.

"Why would it bother me, lad?"

"Because you _hate_ magic."

Killian stopped and turned Ian so they were facing each other. "Let me be very clear, lad. I don't hate magic. I used to, but that's because I only ever saw its dark side, the side that destroyed. But when I met your mother, I saw how magic could be used for _good_. And you said it yourself: your magic is like hers, so how could it bother me?"

Ian looked away, nodded to himself, tugged his backpack more securely onto his shoulder.

"I'm actually _very happy_ you have magic," he said, and Ian raised his eyes to meet Killian's. "It's a part of you, just like it's a part of your mother, alright?"

"Yea," Ian said softly.

"Just make sure you only use your magic for good. Always."

"I will," Ian said. "I want you and mom to be proud of me."

Killian wanted to say "You already have" but he wasn't sure exactly how, so he just put an arm around Ian's shoulders and tugged him against his side, and said, very seriously, "I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me. Can you do that?"

"Yea, dad."

"Operation Octopus involves magic, right?"

"Yes."

"Is it magic you can handle?"

"Yea, no problem."

"You're certain?"

"Yes," Ian said again, firmly. "We're not doing anything that's going to get us hurt. We're -- " he stopped and bit his lip.

"You don't have to tell me now. I just want you to know you _can_ tell me, if you need to. I'm always here for you."

"Ok."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, back towards the Fish & Chips place where Killian had left the bug.

 "What do you think we should do for dinner tonight?" he asked. "Should we cook, or order Granny's?"

"You know I'm going to say Granny's, right?"

"You're just like your mother," he said, and pulled Ian closer so he could kiss the boy's temple. Ian grumbled his obligatory teenage boy protest, but allowed it.

-

The next few days passed quickly. In the morning Emma and Killian dropped Ian off at school, and then either Killian would drop Emma at the station and take the car to the bar, or vice versa. Whoever had the car would pick Ian up from school and take him home. Most often Emma took the car, and Killian worked late. The dwarves were absolutely tireless workers, and Killian refused to put in less effort than them (it was _his_ bar, after all). On Friday, he walked in the door to find Ian trying to pick the lock on the basement door. Emma stood behind him, watching, nibbling on a PopTart.

"What's going on here?" he asked with amusement, hanging his jacket up.

"We got bored waiting for you to come home, so we're working on his lock picking," Emma said, sparing him a brief smile over her shoulder.

"I thought we all agreed there'd be no more breaking and entering?"

"We agreed Operation Octopus would have no more breaking and entering," Ian said distractedly. "This isn't Operation Octopus. This is just me learning a valuable life skill."

"Valuable life skill? For a criminal, perhaps," Killian said. Both Ian and Emma shot him glares.

"Lock picking's not just good for breaking into places, Killian. It's also good for breaking _out_ of places. Around here, that may come in handy one day."

Killian didn't point out that it had _already_ come in handy: once when Ian escaped the handcuffs holding him in the hospital, and once when he escaped his cell at the Sheriff's station.

"Alright, but why _that_ particular lock?" Killian asked. He had some rather unpleasant memories of trying to do the same sort of thing several months ago, but for much different reasons.

"He's never picked a warded lock before, and this is the only warded lock in the house. All the others are pin tumblers."

"And we've already done all those," Ian added.

"Yea, that too," Emma said.

"Ah," Killian said, and what he meant was: _Ah, my two little criminals._

" _Goddammit_ ," Ian growled, and pulled the lock picks from the lock in frustration.

"It's alright, kid. You can do it. Just relax," Emma said calmly. "Here."

She handed him the PopTart she was eating. He took a large bite before handing it back to her over his shoulder.

"Ok, now try again," she said.

Killian watched as Ian stuck one tool, then another, into the lock and delicately maneuvered them.

"I thought you had confiscated those lock picks, Swan," he said, stretching an arm around her waist to settle his hand into her pants pocket.

"I did," she said, wiggling against him just slightly. Tantalizingly. "He's just borrowing them back for our little lesson."

Killian heard the lock Ian was working on give a little click.

"Ah ha!" Ian crowed triumphantly as the basement door swung open.

"Nice, kid," Emma complimented, and high-fived Ian.

"I don't understand," Killian said. "Why don't you just use magic to open the door? It's much faster, correct?"

Emma and Ian shared a look, and then Ian said, "This way's more fun."

Killian snorted.

_Fun._

" _Plus_ ," Ian added. "What am I supposed to do if I can't use magic and I need to escape from somewhere?"

"Wait for your parents to rescue you?" Killian suggested.

"What about when I'm 30?"

"Wait for your parents to rescue you," Killian repeated.

Ian rolled his eyes.

"We're going to work on handcuffs next," Emma said.

"I can already do that," Ian said. He packed up the lock picks and returned them to Emma, who pocketed them.

"Yea, but can you do it when _both_ of your hands are cuffed?"

"Oh. No, I can't."

"Exactly."

"Is that even possible?" Killian asked.

Emma grinned slyly, and winked. "It is."

-

After Ian had gone to bed, Emma showed Killian just _how_ possible it was.

"Can I do you?" she asked, and Killian heard _exactly_ what it was that she was asking. She was straddling his naked hips, holding the sprung handcuffs loosely.

"Mmhm," he hummed, and offered her his hand. She slipped one of the cuffs around his wrist, leaving some space so he wouldn't be uncomfortable, and attached the other end to the bedpost. Killian tugged on it, testing, and was satisfied to feel how firmly he was chained to their bed.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," she admitted.

"You should have mentioned it earlier," he said. "I would have been more than happy to oblige."

His stump was left free, and he rested it across her bare thigh. Emma wasn't shy about his lack of a hand. Her fingers found his wrist and caressed it, knowing from experience the skin there was sensitive and liked to be touched. Her hands trailed up his arm, still massaging gently, and then to his shoulders.

"Not that I'm complaining -- because I'm not, love, this is _marvelous_ \-- but this isn't precisely where I imagined this going," he said, chuckling. He had pictured Emma taking from him what she needed, using his body until he was left completely drained.

"Oh, don't worry," she assured him. "I'm _far_ from done."

-

"It's a good thing I don't need much sleep anymore," he mumbled much later. She had taken her time with him, unraveling him slowly, and it was difficult to say who was _more_ exhausted.

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow?" Emma suggested, voice heavy with sleep. She was pressed against his side, and he could feel her heart beating against his ribs.

"Maybe," he said, although he knew he wouldn't. He had vowed to be a role model for the boys, and that meant _working hard_. He wanted them to see that a little struggle was a natural part of life, but in the end, the rewards reaped were worth the effort. There was no taking the easy way out, as Killian's father had done.

"Ok," Emma answered, and then she was asleep. A gentle smile curved her lips. Killian watched her for a while before he closed his eyes too. He wasn't quite ready to sleep yet, however, so he let his mind wander.

The nights he'd spent lying awake right after returning from the Underworld, tortured by his own thoughts, seemed remote now. So much had changed since then. The house that had felt like an empty shell now felt _filled_.  And they'd managed to do it without changing the furniture too much.

Killian felt a smile on his own lips. Marco had given him good news that afternoon: the crib was ready. Killian's promise was coming to fruition.


	35. Chapter 35

"Is this entirely necessary?" Killian asked, for the eighth time.

"You're going to be driving my grandsons around, so yea," David answered. He was trying to look serious, but a mischievous smile played at the corners of mouth.

"Did _you_ have to complete a load of paperwork and take a ridiculous test to get _your_ license?" Killian said doggedly. Killian knew the reason for David's teasing, knew it was an expression of his affection, but regardless of Killian's respect for David -- and his respect for the fact that David was Emma's father -- he refused to be made a fool of.

"That's different: I was cursed," David replied dismissively. "And two forms isn't a ' _load of paperwork'_. Don't be so dramatic."

"I am _not_ dramatic," Killian retorted, scowling. "And you failed to answer the question, mate."

"No, I technically never took a test to get my driver's license," David admitted, gaze flitting guiltily away from Killian's.

Killian stared hard at David, studying his expression. There was a stubbornness there he was all too familiar with.

"You're still going to make me take the bloody test, aren't you?" he asked.

"I wouldn't be doing my duty as Sheriff if I didn't. Plus, do you know what would happen if I set a precedent for that sort of favoritism?" David asked, and he looked vaguely horrified. "The dwarves would be all over me..."

Killian knew it for the truth, but he still glared for all he was worth. David ignored this, however, and handed him two pieces of paper and a pen, then said in a cheery, professional tone, "Fill out all the required fields and sign your name at the bottom, please."

Resigned, Killian took the proffered items and sat down heavily in Emma's desk chair. As much as he wished to argue, he kept his mouth shut. He may be a pirate at heart, but he was no longer a pirate in _practice_. Killian wanted Emma to be proud of him. He wanted their boys to be proud of him. Being a good man meant doing the right thing _all the time_ , even when it was difficult (or just tedious). And if being a good man _right now_ meant jumping through whatever hoops David set up for him, then so be it.

Killian had hardly begun writing when David was leaning over his shoulder.

"Nice handwriting," he said. "No middle name?"

"I don't have one. Do _you_?" Killian asked pointedly.

"Nope," David answered.

"Is there a reason you're so interested in my personal information? Is this truly for the driver's license, or are you assembling a file on me?"

David grinned. "I'm just waiting to see what you put down for your age."

"Well," Killian said thoughtfully, "my birthday cake informed me that I turned 1,000 this year. Is that valid?"

He couldn't explain why he didn't want to reveal his true age to David, he just knew Emma was the only one privy to _that_ little bit of information, and he rather liked it that way.

David laughed. "I don't think so. How about this: how old were you before you started travelling to Neverland?"

Killian had to think for a moment.

"32?" he said finally.

"So if you start counting upwards again from when you _stopped_ travelling to Neverland, what would that make you now?"

"Not counting the 28 years I was frozen under Cora's spell? 35, I suppose."

"Put 35 then."

"What should I write for the birth date?"

"It's January 1st, right?"

"I meant for the year."

"Oh. Whatever 2015 minus 35 is."

Killian did the math quickly in his head and wrote down 1980. He completed the rest of the form as quickly as possible, extremely conscious of the fact that David was hovering over him, watching. When he reached the section inquiring about his marital status, Killian faltered. Henry's question came back to him: _"So, are you and my mom going to get married now?"_. It was likely David was wondering the same thing, at that very moment, as Killian's pen hovered over the boxes marked "single", "married", "divorced", and "other". Sweat broke out on his brow. He mused briefly that he could mark "other" and just write in an explanation -- what _else_ could it possibly be there for? -- but then he checked the box labeled "single" and hurriedly shoved the form back into David's waiting hand.

"Any _other_ information your require of me?" Killian asked, attempting to sound casual. David examined the form with narrowed eyes. Killian held his breath.

"I think you should write 'coal black' and 'sapphire' for hair and eye color instead of 'dark brown' and 'blue'. Much more romantic. And I feel it's important to mention somewhere on here that your beard is sort of red."

"Ha-bloody-ha," Killian drawled, masking the relief he felt with an exaggerated Emma-eye-roll. "Just do whatever it is you need to do with that piece of paper so we can get on with this."

David slipped the forms Killian had filled out into an unmarked folder -- heightening Killian's suspicion that the whole thing was a farce -- and picked up a clipboard with still more papers attached to it. Killian fully expected to be handed the clipboard and asked to fill out _those_ forms as well, but David started putting his jacket on. Killian followed suit, and then trailed David out of the office and towards the front door.

"Where's the red come from, anyway?" David asked curiously. "Your brother didn't have red hair."

"Our mother," Killian answered.

"Oh," David said. He seemed to sense Killian's mother was a closed subject.

"How about you? From which parent did you receive your looks?"

"My grandmother on my father's side had blonde hair that was light like Emma's and Ian's."

"Ah, so _that's_ where it comes from," Killian said, grinning.

David chuckled. "Are you disappointed Ian doesn't take after you?"

"I quite like the blonde hair, actually. It suits him."

"Yea it kind of does," David said, holding the door open for Killian. "And, well, he may not have your hair color, but he does have your _sapphire eyes_."

"Say 'sapphire' one more time, mate..." Killian growled as he stalked past David and into the parking lot, where the squad car awaited them.

Suddenly, Killian hesitated.

"Are you certain it's okay to be doing this right now?" he asked.

"You're not nervous, are you?" David said. Killian looked over at him quickly, but saw no trace of his teasing grin, just a concerned frown. "There's a DMV in town too, but I thought you'd be more comfortable taking the test with me than with a stranger."

"Oh," Killian said, feeling foolish. "Erm, I just meant who's going to be doing all the Sheriffing if Emma's at home and you're driving around with me?"

"We'll be okay for half an hour," David shrugged, then his expression grew contemplative. "We really should hire a deputy or two. Especially since once Emma has the baby she'll be out for a while."

"Aye," Killian agreed. Emma had told him about "maternity leave" -- well, she'd mentioned it once and then evaded his consequent questions. Killian had relented, knowing they still had plenty of time to discuss the matter, knowing he'd do whatever it took for her to have those three months (more, if she wanted it, if he could convince her to take it).

David must have noticed something odd about Killian's tone because as they settled into car he asked, "Emma's going to take the three months off, right?"

"It's not that she doesn't wish to," Killian said slowly. "I think she believes she won't be _able_ to, what with everything that goes on around here."

David nodded to himself, brow furrowed, then he asked, "How many deputies do you think I'd have to hire before she felt like the town was safe?"

"I'm not sure. A hundred? A _thousand_? I'll drag people in from the streets, if that's what it takes."

David grinned at him. "I don't think we'll need to resort to kidnapping. An advertisement in the newspaper should be good enough."

"As you wish," Killian said. "You know where to find me should you change your mind."

-

"How did the test go?" Emma asked.

Killian pulled his brand-new license from his pocket with a flourish and presented it to Emma. 

"Whoa, didn't feel like smiling, huh?" she asked.

"Why? Is there something wrong?" he said.

"Uh, no, it's just a little, um, menacing, that's all," she said politely, and handed the license back to him. Killian examined the photo. David had taken it at the exact moment he'd instructed Killian to _smile_.

"Can I see?" Ian asked, appearing at Killian's elbow.

Killian turned the license towards him. "What do you think, lad? Do I look _menacing_?"

"Yea," Ian said, and patted his arm sympathetically. "That's definitely your scary pirate face, dad."

Emma smirked at him in obvious satisfaction. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in that moment, despite her smugness. 

"Can you drive me to Regina's house?" Ian asked, voice breaking into Killian's daydream of running his fingers through Emma's hair. "Henry and I want to study together."

"You're not eating dinner with us?" Killian asked, trying to hide his dismay. Ian had been at Regina's with Henry all day the day before "studying" (Killian knew "study" really meant Operation Octopus), but he'd returned home in the evening for dinner. Barring Killian's birthday, the three of them (usually four, counting Henry) had eaten dinner together as a family every night for as long as Ian had been there. It was one of the things Killian looked forward to most at the end of the day.

"Mom said if I spend some time at Regina's house she might not be so salty anymore," Ian said matter-of-factly.

"Whoa, kid, hey," Emma said. "I did not use the word 'salty'. I said Regina will realize you're not a bad influence once she gets to know you the way your dad and I have."

"She's known me since I was born, mom, and she feels the exact same way about me in thirteen years as she does right now. I don't think two days of playing nice is going to change that. Anyway, I don't really care what she thinks of me; I just want Henry to be able to come over again."

"Me too," Emma said. Killian heard the note of sadness in her voice. Ian did too. He nodded tightly, lips pressed firmly together. Killian thought he was likely playing _extra_ nice with Regina as a way to make it up to his mother for his role in Henry's exile from their home. Killian was proud of the boy, proud of his ability to admit he made a mistake and to try and make up for it, and he told Ian as much on the drive to Regina's house. Predictably, Ian looked away in embarrassment and stared hard out the window houses until they reached their destination.

"Not too late, alright lad? You have school tomorrow."

"Ok," Ian said.

"Call when you're ready to come home."

"I'll text you."

"Call, please. You know I'm not very good with texting."

"You'd be fine if you just swiped the keyboard instead of, like, tapping at it."

"I don't know what any of that means."

"I'll show you later," Ian said, and suddenly he was yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Are you tired?"

"No, I'm okay," Ian said, shaking his head vigorously. "I'll call you in a few hours."

"Before 9 o'clock, please," Killian told him sternly. He had experienced a sleep-deprived, cranky Ian before, and had no desire to do so again if he didn't have to.

"Ok, dad."

Killian watched Ian until he had waved from inside Regina's house and closed the door, then he drove home.

-

Emma was laying out plates and silverware for two on the kitchen table when Killian returned home. He watched her while he slipped out of his shoes and jacket, and as he did so he realized what had caught his eye earlier. Emma was always beautiful, but tonight she was _radiant_. Killian had always heard that pregnant women had a glow about them, but he hadn't believed it until now: Emma was all golden hair and creamy skin and sparkling green eyes. She smiled at him over her shoulder, aware of his gaze.

"Emma," he said.

"Hmm?"

"How long has it been since we've had the house all to ourselves?"

She blinked at him in confusion, but he was across the kitchen and kissing her before she could answer. She dropped the silverware onto the table with a clatter and wound her arms his neck. She kissed him back fiercely, teeth grazing his lips and sending ripples of pleasure through him. Her mouth was _so warm_. One stray though about how that would feel on his cock had him hard in an instant. He backed her to the counter and hoisted her up onto it. His hand went beneath her shirt, snaking up her back to release the clasp of her bra with a quick, deft twist of his fingers. She tugged his shirt from his jeans, and they proceeded to pull at each other's clothing until everything lay in a pile on the floor at their feet and there was nothing between them but flushed skin.

"What do you want?" he breathed against her collarbone, nipping his way along her shoulder and up her neck to her ear. He was pressing against her core and she was already wet and he couldn't _think_. He needed her to decide, because he couldn't -- he wasn't sure if he wanted it hard and fast here in the kitchen, or if he wanted to carry her upstairs and take his time with her.

"I want you inside me now," she said, and he wasted no time obeying. He pushed inside of her slowly, relishing the heat and the way her walls clenched around him. Her back arched in pleasure and she let out a low, indulgent moan.

"And after," she purred, "I want you again upstairs."

"Oh, Swan, you read my mind," he growled.

-

"I guess you can cross 'get a driver's license' off your list," she said later. She stretched, and for a moment Killian was entranced by the expanse of skin before him. He ran his fingers upwards from he soft patch of hair between her legs over the swell of her belly, up between her breasts, growing fuller and heavier as her pregnancy progressed, and then back. She caught his hand with hers and threaded her fingers through his, then rested their joined hands on her stomach.

"Will you add one more thing to your list for me, love?" 

"Sure."

"I want you to take maternity leave, after you have the baby," he said. She turned her green eyes on him. He gazed back steadily, waiting.

"What if I can't?" she asked quietly. 

"It's going to be my job to make sure you _can_. It's _your_ job to enjoy that time. You didn't get it with Henry, love, and I know you regret it. I want you to have it with Ian," he said, and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. 

"Okay," she said, and she smiled at him, _his_ smile.

-

The next day, Marco insisted that Killian accompany him to his shop in order to inspect the crib before he added the finishing touches.

"I thought you said it was already finished?" Killian asked, not unkindly, just curiously. Marco was the most genuinely good-hearted man Killian had ever encountered. He'd become something of a fatherly-figure around the bar, even to the dwarves, but especially to Will, as if Marco sensed Will was in desperate need of kindness. 

"It _is_ finished. It only needs some paint and for the upholstery to be attached," Marco said. "I wanted your opinion on the colors."

Killian nodded, realizing he'd been extremely vague concerning the finer details of the crib. Marco had never asked Killian for any directions other than those initially given, so Killian truly didn't know what to expect. His heart began racing as he followed Marco into his garage. Inside, Marco switched on the overhead light to reveal a large object shrouded in protective plastic standing in the very center of the floor. Without preamble, he neatly removed the wrapping and put it to the side, then turned to gauge Killian's reaction.

Killian stared at the marvel before him.

"Marco, it's magnificent," he said, hardly able to believe his eyes. It was _exactly_ as he remembered Emma's crib, and yet it was also somehow beyond what he had imagined. He reached out and touched one of the posts reverently.

"Black walnut," Marco supplied helpfully. "It's sturdy, and darker colors are more traditional for boys."

Killian nodded dumbly, still transfixed. He had seen fine craftsmanship in his time but _this_...this was exquisite.

"Come. Look closer," Marco said, face crinkling in a smile, and he gestured for Killian to inspect the intricately carved circular panels. "What do you see?"

Killian saw geometric patterns cleverly entwined with waves and ship's wheels and...

"Are those...?"

"Buttercups? Yes," Marco said. There was a little twinkle in his eye. "I know Emma has an affection for them. They also happen to be part of her father's heraldry."

Killian ran a finger delicately over one of the miniscule carved flowers, a smile slowly curving his lips.

"What do you think? Fit for a prince?"

"Aye," Killian said, throat tight and voice strained with emotion. "Fit for a prince."

Killian had been a slave, Emma had been an orphan; their son would be a _prince_.

"I have the upholstery over here," Marco said. He straightened and went to retrieve a plastic-wrapped bundle from his work table, giving Killian a moment of privacy in which to compose himself again.

"How do you like the color?" Marco asked, returning with the bundle. Killian removed the fabric carefully from its covering, acutely aware of how soft it was against his rough, calloused hand. It was a rich navy on one side, and a pale sky blue on the other.

"It's perfect," he said, chuckling. It was the same color as the pajamas he had bought for the baby.

"I was thinking the same light blue and a matte gold for the roundels," Marco said.

"Like Emma's," Killian said, head bobbing in approval.

"Very similar, yes. In appearance, this crib's identical to Emma's save for the panels and the colors. The structure is the same as well, except for one modern alteration," Marco said, and he showed Killian how the level of the mattress could be adjusted, lowered as the babe grew older. "It makes it more difficult for the babe to fall out -- or escape."

Killian grinned. "You've met Ian, yes?"

"Yes," Marco said, and he had that warm, grandfatherly smile again. Whenever Henry or Ian came around the bar Marco doted upon them as if they were his own grandchildren. 

"Escape seems more likely."

Marco chuckled.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Marco added. "You'll be able to remove the upholstery and replace it, should it get worn out. Or should you and Emma have another child and you wish to change the colors. For a girl, perhaps."

It was Killian's turn to chuckle.

-

Killian and Marco agreed that Killian would take the crib on January 20th, and as they drove back to the bar Killian formulated a plan to sneak the crib into the house while Emma was out, and surprise her with it after their doctor's appointment. He was distracted for the rest of the day, but the dwarves and Will were wise enough not to say anything about it, even when he nearly accidentally maimed Happy with a nail gun.

He went home feeling light and bubbly on the inside, and wondered if what he was feeling was _optimism_.

-

The next afternoon, Emma went to Gold's Pawn Shop to be with Belle while she used the unicorn horn, so Killian picked Ian up from school and they went back to the house together. By the time Emma returned home, Killian and Ian were nearly finished cooking dinner. Killian didn't wait for her to remove her coat, he just went to her and wrapped her in his arms. She smelled of dusty places and furniture polish -- she smelled like the Pawn Shop, in short, and Killian _hated_ it.

"Hey, love. Is everything okay? That took longer than expected," he said. He had grown more and more agitated as the hours passed, worried that the news may not have been good, worried that something may have happened. His texts to her had all gone unanswered.

"Hey," she said softly, exhaustion clear in her voice. She slumped against him and hugged him back tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled deeply. Killian wondered if she disliked the smell of Gold's shop as much as he did. "Sorry if you tried to call me. My battery died because _someone_ \-- " here she raised her head and raised her voice " -- was texting Henry all night."

Ian, stirring the spaghetti on the stove, ducked his head guiltily and said, "Sorry."

"I just missed you," he said against her hair. Her _hair_ smelled like her, and he breathed it in.

"Mmm," she hummed back. "I missed you too."

"Did you miss _me_?" Ian asked sweetly.

"That depends on whether you did your homework or not."

"I did."

"Then yes, I missed you."

"How'd it go?" Killian asked her.

"Fine," she said, and he saw it in her smile. "Everything's going to be okay. She just didn't want to be alone, afterwards, so I stayed with her and we talked. She made a doctor's appointment for next week."

"Good," Killian said, tension leaking out of him. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yea. It's...it didn't bother me. The unicorn horn. I kind of thought it might, but...I don't know. It feels sort of dumb to have worried about it in the first place, now."

"I know what you mean," Killian said, glancing at Ian's back over his shoulder.

"Sorry again for that whole thing, by the way."

"That's in the past love. There's no need to dwell on it."

"I know," she huffed. "I still feel bad about it, sometimes."

"I don't," he said firmly. "So you shouldn't."

She nodded and then looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. "So? Do you want to know what Belle's having?"

"Of course I do," he answered, grinning.

"Twins," she said.

"Twins?" he asked, blinking in astonishment.

"Yep. She said a boy and a girl."

"Enzo and Colette," Ian said. While Emma and Killian had been talking, he'd served up three plates of spaghetti. "Enzo's my best friend. Next to Rowan."

"I thought you said Neal was your best friend?" Killian asked, recalling his and Ian's conversation in his hospital room a month and a half ago.

"No, I said my _cousin_ is my best friend. Neal's my uncle. Enzo and Colette are my cousins. Well, I call them my cousins because they're basically family. Anyway, are you guys ready to eat?"

" _You_ are, apparently," Emma said, but she was smiling fondly at Ian. She left Killian's side to engulf their son in his own hug. She kissed his temple, ruffled his hair, then asked, "How was your day?"

"Fine," he said, without enthusiasm. "The music teacher made me stand up and sing a solo in front of the whole class."

"Why'd she do that?" Emma asked, bewildered.

"Because I was talking while she was teaching."

"Ah, so basically you deserved it?"

"I guess," he grumbled. "I was only talking because some girl was trying to pass me a note and I was trying to tell her I didn't want her note."

"A _girl_ was trying to pass you a note?" Emma asked, interested. 

"What did the note say?" Killian pressed, quirking an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I didn't read it," Ian said, but he was blushing.

"Why didn't you read it? She probably likes you and wanted to know if you like her back," Emma said.

"Probably," Ian answered, reddening further.

"And?"

"And what, dad? _She's twice my age_!"

"I've had my fair share of women, lad, and let me tell you, the older ones -- "

" _Killian!_ "

Killian felt his cheeks go hot.

"Sorry, love," he said, and rubbed behind his ear, tugged at his earring.

"Yea," she said sharply, still glowering.

"I, erm, forgot myself for a moment..." he mumbled, and sank into his chair, embarrassed.

"Uh-huh," Emma said, and took her own seat. He chanced a smile at her and received one in return, so he knew her annoyance with him had passed.

"We'll continue that conversation some other time. When you're older," he muttered to Ian.

"How about never?" Ian grumbled back, poking at a meatball with his fork, rolling it off his pile of spaghetti to the side.

"You say that now, but give it a year or two and you're going to be _begging_ your dad for advice," Emma said.

Killian perked up. "Thank you, Swan."

She winked at him, and said, "Hey, kid, you going to eat that meatball or can the other you have it?"

-

Emma went upstairs after dinner, to take a shower and get in bed after a long day. That left Killian at the mercy of Ian and his taste in television programs. They ended up watching a hockey game, and, perhaps due to his boy's keen interest in the sport, Killian actually felt himself become invested in what they were watching. In any case, he was disappointed that the red team he and Ian had been rooting for lost 3-2 to the team in white.

"Perhaps next time," Killian said consolingly.

"They win the Stanley Cup this year, so I'd say they're fine," Ian said, then added, "The Stanley Cup's like the championship."

"Ah. Thank you."

After Ian went to bed, Killian closed his and Emma's bedroom door and leaned against it. Emma was awake, sitting on the bed in pajama pants and a tank top with her legs crossed, elbows propped on her knees and her chin resting in her hands.

"What are you thinking, love?" he asked. She looked troubled. He sat next to her but left some space in between, just in case. He ran the backs of his fingers gently along her arm, and when she didn't shy away he planted a kiss on her bare shoulder. There was a sparse, nearly invisible dusting of freckles there that he found charming. One had to be very close in order to see them, and he liked to think he was one of only a few who knew of their existence.

Emma turned her head and smiled softly at him. "I was thinking about Belle."

"What about her?" he prompted.

"I'm worried about her. She's going to be raising _twins_ on her own, Killian."

"She won't be alone."

She frowned at him questioningly.

"We're going to be there for her," he said, and although he hadn't thought about it or made a plan, he knew it was true.

"You promise?"

"I do," he said. "She's our friend, and even if she wasn't, I'd still help her because _you_ want to help her."

She raised her hand to his cheek, fingers dragging lightly along his beard, and kissed him.

"I love you, Killian," she said.

"I love you too, Emma," he said, and then gave a huge sigh. If Emma wanted dramatic, he'd give her dramatic.

"What?" she asked.

"My son and the son of my mortal enemy are best friends. Splendid."

She laughed.

-

After Emma fell asleep, Killian lay awake for a while, thinking about how Emma had almost been in Belle's position. If Killian had moved on with Liam, he would unknowingly have left Emma behind to raise their son in her own.

He pressed his hand over his face, as if that might stop the tears that stung his eyes from escaping.

He had been such an _idiot_.

-

Killian was awoken some time later by a chill draft. He sat up in bed, peering around the dark room cautiously. Their bedroom windows were closed, but the door to their bedroom was half-open. Killian slipped quietly from bed, careful not to wake Emma, and padded out into the hallway. Henry's bedroom door was wide open, and when Killian went to investigate he found the bed empty and the window gaping, curtains fluttering in the cold breeze.

Killian's blood froze in his veins. He pelted to the window and leaned out. The window overlooked the roof that covered the front porch, and he expected to see footprints or signs of a scuffle in the snow there, but was startled to find Ian sitting just to the left of him.

Ian stared back, equally startled.

"Uh, hey dad," he said.

" _What are you doing out here_?" Killian hissed. Anger flooded him, and his voice rose steadily as he continued, "I thought you'd been kidnapped! I thought Zelena kidnapped you!"

"I-I'm sorry," Ian said, eyes wide. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just couldn't sleep."

Killian had no response, so he just glared, breathing heavily through his nose, jaw clenched tight.

"I had a bad dream," Ian continued timidly. "This is where I usually go when I have a bad dream and can't sleep."

Killian felt his anger begin to ebb. 

"Why didn't you wake your mother and I?"

"Because I'm 13?"

Killian sighed. "Fair enough," he said, then hesitated uncertainly a moment before asking, "Is there room enough for one more out there?"

"Yep," Ian answered, and scooted sideways, exposing a spot relatively clear of snow.

"How long have you been out here? Aren't you cold?" Killian asked, settling next to Ian. He was wearing undershorts and a t-shirt and was shivering violently already. Ian was slightly more prepared, wearing Henry's old pajama bottoms and a hooded sweatshirt.

"Oh. Here." He placed a coffee cup in the space between them. Inside the cup was the same crimson flame Ian had warmed them with on the Jolly Roger the other day. Despite its small size, the heat was comparable to a hearth fire.

"What sort of magic is this, exactly? It's different than the fireballs I've seen Regina and Zelena use."

"Regina calls it 'arcane magic'. She says it's from a different time."

"I thought you said it was dangerous..."

"It doesn't really get out of control the way real fire does."

"Unless it turns black, you mean."

"Yea, but it doesn't turn black on its own. You have to _make_ it turn black."

"Can you show me? Without burning the house down, that is," Killian asked. He wasn't particularly interested in the properties of sorcerous red fire, he just enjoyed how effortlessly Ian used magic, as if it was an extension of him, inseparable.

Ian held his hand near the fire, and as Killian watched the color of the flame deepened from crimson to black.

"And that could burn this entire house down?"

"Probably the whole neighborhood, actually."

"Remind me again why it isn't dangerous?"

"Because you have to really, _really_ want to hurt something to make it turn black," he said, and then he must have realized he'd said the wrong thing because his eyes became big and round and he looked away quickly.

"Who do you want to hurt?" Killian asked quietly.

Ian didn't answer, but if Killian had to guess he would have guessed Zelena.

They sat in silence for a time, both looking to the east, where the sea was just visible in the distance as a swathe of black with the barest hint of moonlight on the waves. The sky was clear with its usual spattering of stars, reminding Killian of the freckles on Emma's shoulders, and the ones on Ian's nose.

"You said you had a nightmare?" Killian asked, breaking the silence.

"Yea," Ian answered without turning his head.

"Can I ask what about? Sometimes talking -- "

"Makes it less frightening. I know. You've told me," Ian said. He smiled. It was a tired smile. "I dreamt about Zelena again."

"Again?"

"Yea, I dreamt about her over the weekend, too."

"Ah," Killian said. That explained why the boy had been so tired on Sunday. "Have you dreamt about her other than that?"

"A few times when I first got here, but not again until now," Ian said, and paused. Killian sensed he had more to say, so he waited patiently. "Aunt Regina says my nightmares are like premonitions. She says I'm _sensitive_. But I'm not sure if she means it as an insult or a compliment. It sounds like an insult."

"With Regina, most things do," Killian said, and then, "So you think your nightmares are a sign that, what, Zelena's arrival is drawing closer?"

"Yea," Ian said, so quietly Killian almost didn't hear. He felt a chill crawl up his spine, in spite of the crimson fire glowing merrily in the coffee mug between him and his son.

"Let's go inside," he suggested. Ian followed Killian back into Henry's bedroom and closed the window behind them. Ian extinguished the flame in the mug and got into bed. Killian tucked him in, feeling absurdly as if he wrapped Ian up tight enough in the blankets he could protect him from bad dreams.

"Dad, I'm not a burrito. You don't need to swaddle me."

"Sorry, lad," Killian said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, dad."

Killian returned to bed and dreamt that the Wicked Witch arrived and burned Storybrooke to the ground with her green fireballs.

-

Belle came over for dinner the next evening. She looked happier, somehow, than she had been for the past month. She didn't quite have the glow that Emma had, but Killian thought she might get there. Killian thought Emma could _help_ her get there.

As they ate, Ian, Emma, and Belle argued about who the best character in Harry Potter was. Killian had no idea what was going on, but he was amused by how invested in the story the three of them were.

"Maybe we should watch the movie with your dad, so he knows what we're talking about," Emma said, catching Killian's eye and smiling.

"The _movie_?" Ian asked, disgusted. "Mom, seriously. He can't see the movies until he's read the books."

Later, Emma dragged her box of childhood belongings from the closet and fished out a very worn book. She handed it to Killian.

"Harry Potter," Killian read, and grinned.

-

Killian and Marco were discussing the merits and drawbacks of stools versus high top chairs when Killian got a call from a number Emma had put in his phone under the name 'School'.

"I'm sorry, Marco. Give me a moment, please," Killian said. Marco nodded and moved away politely. Killian put the phone to his ear and said hesitantly, "Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Jones?"

"Er, yes?"

"Hi, this is Agnes Peartree. I'm the principal at Storybrooke Elementary. I'm calling about your son, Killian."

It took him a moment to realize she was referring to Ian. And then panic gripped him.

"Ian? Is he okay? Is everything alright?"

"He's fine, Mr. Jones. But we need you to come pick him up."

"Why? What happened?"

"Killian was caught fighting in the hallway with another student. It's school policy that he be suspended for two days, effective immediately."

"I'll be right there," he said through gritted teeth, and hung up.

Killian informed Marco, Will, and the dwarves that he needed to leave. Marco, who likely overheard at least part of Killian's phone conversation, insisted he take his pickup truck, as the bug was at the Sheriff's station with Emma. Killian thanked him and left. He drove to the school as fast as he thought was legally safe, wondering frantically what the hell had happened.

_Fighting?_

Ian had inherited a few character traits from him that Killian wasn't entirely proud of. Killian knew the boy was impulsive, knew he was hot-headed, but he wasn't aggressive or violent.

Killian found Ian sitting in the school office. Ian had a split lip and a bruise spreading along his jaw and up his cheek. He was glaring at a boy sitting across from him, a boy twice his size with a puggish face and a black eye. Killian was surprised to find Henry sitting in the chair next to Ian. It was clear he hadn't been involved in the fight -- not physically, at least.

A door opened, and a small, stern-looking woman with iron gray hair and glasses walked out.

"Ah, you must be Killian's father," she said.

"Aye," Killian said. He glanced at Ian, but Ian was staring at the floor. Henry was looking at him though, and from his expression Killian knew Henry wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Why don't you come into my office so we can discuss the situation? You too, Killian."

-

Ian got into Marco's pickup truck, slammed the door behind him and then slumped sideways into it and rested his forehead against the window.

"Fighting?" Killian asked incredulously when he'd gotten into the driver's seat. "Is that how we raised you?"

Ian, Henry, and the other boy involved in the fight had remained resolutely silent, refusing to provide any explanation for the incident, so the principal had claimed she had no choice but to suspend Ian and the other boy. Henry's exact involvement was uncertain, but as he hadn't been fighting he wasn't being punished.

Ian made no indication that he'd heard Killian's question.

" _Is that how we raised you_?" Killian asked, louder. There was an edge to his voice, an angry edge, but he wasn't angry at Ian, he was angry with _himself_. Had he failed, somehow? He thought of the black flame, how Ian had said you needed to want to _hurt somebody_ to conjure it.

"No, it's not," Ian answered, and something in his voice made Killian dial his anger back.

"Tell me what happened."

"They were bullying Henry."

"I -- what? Who was?"

"Some kids."

"Including the other boy I saw in the principal's office?"

"Yea."

For a moment, Killian felt like the little boy who'd been tormented by his more privileged schoolmates, made to feel more of an outsider than he already was. His first instinct was to stomp back inside the school and give the boy another black eye to match the one Ian had already given him, but he restrained himself.

"Why were they bullying Henry?" he asked, surprised by how calm he sounded.

"He doesn't have any friends, dad," Ian said. He was fiddling with one of the zippers on his backpack. "He's different, and everyone knows it, so they treat him different."

"I...I didn't realize."

"Me either," Ian said, and shrugged. "I mean, they don't hurt him, or anything. They're just jerks."

"He's never said anything," Killian said. Emma had mentioned how Henry didn't seem to have any friends here his own age, unlike when they had lived in New York, but Killian had thought the boy was content -- a little lonely, maybe, but otherwise happy.

Well, that just showed how good of a father he was. Henry was being bullied right under his nose and he hadn't noticed.

Ian smiled wryly. "I think he puts up with it because he's used to it."

"But it bothered _you_."

" _Yes it bothered me_ ," Ian said heatedly, scowling at his backpack as if he meant to tear it apart.

Killian took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Are you mad?" Ian asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," Killian admitted. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to handle the situation. He wished he could use the Crimson Crown Henry and Ian had stolen from Regina's vault to contact his future self and ask what the hell he should do. "However, I _do_ know that we need to get some ice on that lip before it swells too much."

-

Back at the bar, Marco took one look at Ian and ordered Will to get some ice from Granny's. Will looked bewildered but he obeyed, and returned with a fistful of ice wrapped in a dish towel. Killian pressed the towel to Ian's face and guided him to the newly-built bar.

"Up you go," he said, and Ian hopped onto the countertop. Marco had found a first-aid kit somewhere, and he passed it to Killian. "Alright, lad, let's clean you up."

Liam had always taken care of Killian's wounds when he was a boy. Killian had had more than one split lip, and more than one swollen, bruised face in his time. While Ian's cut looked like it stung, it wouldn't require stitches. He hissed when Killian applied the antiseptic to the cut on his lip, but didn't recoil. He sat stock still while Killian probed the wound with a cotton ball, cleaning it as thoroughly as he could. Split lips were nasty things, prone to infection if one wasn't careful, especially since they were nearly impossible to bandage.

Killian took a step back and eyed the bruise on Ian's jaw. _That_ would likely last for a while. It was dark purple already, and beginning to swell. 

"Here, take these," Marco said, butting in and handing Ian two pills and a glass of water. "This will help with the pain."

"Thanks, Marco," Ian said.

Killian waited until he had swallowed the pills and drained the glass of water, then asked, "Now will you tell me what happened?"

"Yea," Ian huffed, looking contemplatively into his empty glass. "That kid was being an asshole to Henry, so I got in between them."

Killian recalled Emma's comment from the previous week, about how their son didn't seem the type to take any shit from a bully. Killian tried to imagine Ian going toe to toe with the boy he'd seen in the office, a boy who was a good deal taller and wider than Ian. Part of him wished he could have seen it.

"So that boy hit you?"

"No, he pushed me. So I pushed him back. Well, sort of. He was pretty big. He didn't move very much."

" _Then_ he hit you?"

"Tried to."

"Tried?"

"Yea, I ducked him. But then..."

"Yes?"

"Then I sort of punched him. In the face. I didn't mean to, exactly. It was just a reflex."

Killian could see the regret on his face, hear it in his voice.

"And how did you get that split lip?"

"After I hit him, I tried to apologize. But he sucker punched me."

Killian crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Are you going to tell mom?" Ian asked.

"You think you can hide the fact that you've been in a fight from your mother? Did you get punched in the brain, as well? Put that rag back on your face."

"I _meant_ Henry. About him getting bullied," Ian said. He pressed the ice against his face again, and his eyes narrowed in pain. Killian's guts clenched. It was difficult for him to watch the boy hurting.

"If mom finds out she's going to go completely Mama Bear and hunt that kid down," Ian said. He grinned, but the grin turned into a wince as his lip was split open again. Fresh blood leaked down his chin. Killian hurriedly seized a wad of gauze from the first-aid kit and applied it to Ian's mouth.

"We can't lie to your mother," Killian said. "We have to tell her the truth. We just have to figure out the _best way_ to tell her the truth."

Ian didn't look entirely convinced, but he remained silent. Killian busied himself with the first-aid kit, poking through the bandages, looking for one that might fit Ian's split lip.

 _Mama Bear_.

Killian grinned to himself. Did that make him "Papa Bear"?

"Mom's calling you," Ian said.

Killian looked up. "Hm?"

Ian was holding out Killian's phone.

"How'd you get that?" Killian asked, snatching it back from Ian.

"I took it from your pocket."

"What? When?"

"Like 5 minutes ago."

"Did your mother teach you pick-pocketing as well?"

"Uh, no. You did. Do you think the school called mom too?"

Killian stared, processing what Ian had just said. Without taking his eyes from Ian's smirking face he put the phone to his ear and said, "Yes, love?"

"Hey, Regina just texted me and said she got a call from the school and it's something to do with Henry and Ian and she had to pick Henry up from school and now she's coming to the station. What's going on?"

"Ah," Killian said. "Perhaps it's best if Ian and I explain in person."

"He's with you? Why isn't he at school?"

"Um..."

" _Killian!_ "

"We'll be there in two minutes, love. Just...just hold on."

-

Emma fussed over Ian's face while he and Killian told her everything -- about the fight, the bullying, all of it. And then Regina arrived and informed them that Henry had told _her_ everything, as well. Then she informed them that she was allowing Henry to go to their house again.

"He was happier when he was spending time with you," she said stiffly. "He and Ian seem to be friends, and since he doesn't have any others, keeping them apart is only hurting him."

Emma nodded mutely, eyebrows nearly at her hairline, while Killian and Ian stared.

"And in the meantime, we can solve this bully problem," Regina added.

"You can't turn the kid into a toad or anything," Emma said. "Or fireball him."

" _I know that_ ," Regina spat.

"How about you and Robin and Henry come over tomorrow night for dinner, and we'll talk about it?"

"Tomorrow's Friday," Ian said. "Can Henry spend the night?"

"Yes," Regina said, and she actually smiled.

-

As soon as they got home, Emma was all over Ian's face again.

"Ow! Mom, that hurts!" Ian said, recoiling.

"Sorry!" she said quickly, dropping her hands and balling them into fists. "Sorry. I'm just trying to heal it."

"It's okay, you don't have to."

"Is there something wrong with your magic, love?" Killian asked.

"It's been getting harder and harder to control it. I've been trying to use it a little here and there, but I can barely make it work," she said, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. 

"That's not good," he said without thinking.

"Yea, I know!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean it that way," he said, but she stalked away.

"I'll be right back," Killian told Ian. "Get some fresh ice and put it on your face."

Killian followed Emma to the first floor bathroom. She was leaning over the sink, hands braced on either side of it, head bowed. She looked like she might be sick, or like she was crying.

"How am I going to protect him if I don't have magic?" she asked, but before he could answer she sprung another difficult question on him. "Killian... _why didn't we come for him_? Even if we couldn't stop him from coming in the first place, why didn't we go after him?"

She pulled her head up and looked at him. Her face was red and puffy and there were tear tracks down her cheeks.

"I don't know, love," he said helplessly. 

"You don't think..." she started, and bit her lip. She took a deep breath and continued, "You don't think something happened to us, in the future...do you?"

He heard a sound behind him and turned. Ian was there, a plastic bag bulging with ice pressed to his cheek.

"Can we order pizza tonight?" he asked.

"Of course, lad," Killian said. "Give us a moment, will you?"

Ian nodded and left. 

Killian pulled Emma into his arms. She buried her head against his shoulder and cried. He rubbed circles on her back, lips against her hair, whispering, "It's going to be okay" over and over again. 

-

Ian heard his mom start crying and he slipped upstairs, seeking the refuge of the roof outside his -- Henry's -- bedroom window. He sat in the snow, not bothering to warm himself in any way, letting the cold numb him to the emotions whirring inside him.

His mom's question rang in his ears: _why didn't we come for him?_

He'd asked himself the same question a thousand times. But...he knew. Every time he closed his eyes he could see it clearly: the barn, the time portal raging like fire, nearly blinding him. Zelena's deranged laughter echoed back to him, filling his ears or his mind or both, and behind him...no, he couldn't look, he _shouldn't_ look, but he did anyway, and his eyes burned with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mention the twins before because they were sort of extraneous until now, and I didn't want to throw too much information out there at once, like one of those books with a million characters whose names you can't keep track of.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some swearing, some fighting, and some blood.

It took Emma a long time to cry herself out. A river of frustration, anger, and terror raged through her -- frustration with herself for not having noticed Henry was being bullied, angry because Ian never should have had to get into a fight and now he was _hurt_ , and terror that she'd be completely powerless and unable to protect her family when Zelena arrived. The new fears brought out the old ones, and every worry she'd bottled up -- Henry being lonely, Henry feeling left out or replaced when the baby was born, her not being able to be the warm, loving mother her and Killian's son deserved, Ian never being able to return to the future and losing his home, future her and Killian left without their son -- came pouring forth.

And then there was that _other thing:_  that little voice in the back of her mind, wondering why Ian was alone, why her and Killian hadn't come after him.

Killian held her through it all, whispering, "It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay," over and over. She clung to his voice like a life line until the storm had passed. When she'd finally calmed down she felt achingly empty. Killian steered her to the tub with a hand on her arm and his hook pressing gently against the small of her back. She sat down on the ledge, and Killian sat next to her. She sagged against him, exhausted, head falling to his shoulder.

"Talk to me, love," Killian said quietly. "Tell me everything."

"I don't want to talk about it," she said dully, eyes closed as if she could shut out reality.

"Emma, love, you _need_ to talk about it -- _we_ need to talk about it. You're not alone anymore, remember?"

"I remember," she said. Fresh tears stung her eyes. She turned her face into Killian's shoulder, trying to hide them.

"Normally, at a time like this, I'd suggest rum to calm the nerves. However..." he trailed off. Emma recognized his attempt to cheer her up, but honestly, she just...she _couldn't_. He must have recognized that she wasn't in the mood, because he took a deep breath and plowed forward. "Why didn't you tell me about your magic sooner?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," she said, but inside she was crumbling again. She felt a sob send a shiver through her chest. Killian shifted so that his arms were around her, cradling her to his chest. He stroked her hair and hummed in her ear.

Killian's wordless song soothed her, easing the knot of worry in her chest.

"Where'd you learn to sing?" she mumbled into his shirt. It was easier to talk if she didn't have to look at him.

Killian tensed, and Emma could tell her question caught him off guard.

"My mother," he answered stiffly.

"Mmm. You have a nice voice."

"Thank you, love," he said, and kissed her forehead, relaxing again.

"What was her name?" she asked, unable to help herself. 

Killian was silent for a long moment. Emma counted the seconds.

_5...10...15..._

"Saoirse," he said, letting out a deep breath. "Her name was Saoirse."

"It's beautiful."

"She was," he whispered, and then she heard the note of desperate sadness in his voice as he begged, " _Please_. Emma. Please talk to me. I don't know what to do."

The pain in his voice was like a stab in the gut.

"My magic doesn't work," she said, face still pressed against his chest. Her hands gripped her knees hard, and her fingernails bit into her skin through her leggings.

"Aye," he said calmly. His arm tightened reassuringly around her shoulders, and his hand stroked her hair again. "You told me you were having some trouble using it sometimes. And then you told me Ian and Regina said it was because the baby has magic."

"Yea. Ian said his magic is messing up my magic, and I think he's right. It's been getting harder to control. Probably because the baby's growing."

Killian let out a low chuckle. "So the boy's been causing us trouble since even _before_ he was born."

"Well, he wouldn't be Killian Jones if he wasn't causing me trouble," she teased, feeling slightly better, feeling a bubble of hope form in her chest, growing larger, pushing out the negative feelings.

"So you can't control your magic at all?"

"I don't know. I've been avoiding using it for weeks because I'm afraid to find out that I _can't_ use it."

"Stubborn Swan," he muttered.

"Yea, I know," she said, and pulled away from him. Killian let her go, but he laid his hand on her thigh, palm up. An offering, and an appeal. Emma threaded her fingers through his, needing that connection, needing his support.

"Do you think -- Emma, love, I'm no expert on magic, but perhaps you just need to _relearn_ how to control it? Your magic hasn't disappeared, correct?"

"No, it's definitely not gone," she said. She could _feel_ it there, inside her, she just couldn't...reach it.

"Perhaps you just need to access it differently now? Why don't you talk to Regina?" he suggested.

Emma couldn't help the way her mouth twisted into a grimace, or the discontented grumble that escaped her.

"Alright," Killian chuckled. "Then how about asking Ian?"

"You want me to ask our _kid_ for magic advice?"

"The boy seems to know what he's doing, despite his age. And he said that your magic and his magic are alike. He may be able to help."

"When did you talk to him about magic?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's come up a few times. Here and there. It doesn't matter. Will you ask him?"

"Yea," she said, although she felt like there was more to that than Killian was letting on. She was intensely curious, but she tucked that curiosity away for later.

"Tonight? Will you ask him tonight?" he pressed.

"No, not tonight." She shook her head tiredly. "Just...when I'm ready. I'll do it when I'm ready."

"Fair enough. What else? I know there's more."

"There is," she said, and all at once the guilt came rushing back. She couldn't protect Ian _now_ , and she apparently couldn't protect him in the future. She looked at Killian pleadingly. "Killian. I _love_ him. I love Ian."

"I know. I love him too."

"Then why didn't we jump into that portal after him? We're supposed to protect him! _I_ was supposed to protect him!"

Killian opened his mouth to reply but she rushed on. "I can't protect _either_ of my sons. Henry's being bullied and I didn't put a stop to it. And now Ian's _hurt_."

"You can't blame yourself for Henry, love," Killian said. "I thought the same thing earlier. I thought I should have noticed. Then Ian told me _he_ didn't notice either, until he started going to school. Emma, if Ian didn't even know, how were we supposed to?"

"That's different: I'm his _mother_! I should have known!"

"How could you have?" His blue eyes held hers firmly. "Henry's a teenage boy; a teenage boy used to keeping secrets. He's clever, Emma. You wouldn't have seen anything he didn't want you to see."

"But he's just a kid, how -- "

"First of all, he's not _just a kid_. Secondly, the boy's always been desperate to be a hero, love, like you and your parents."

"He thought being bullied would make us think less of him," Emma said, finally realizing.

"Aye."

She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder once more.

"How do you know so much?" she asked.

"I was a teenage boy once, too. I remember what it was like."

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"We _are_ going to talk to him. Tomorrow."

"No, I mean...maybe you should talk to him before that. Just you and him. Man to man or whatever."

He smiled. "If you'd let me, Swan, I'd be happy to."

" _Let_ you?" she asked, pulling her head up to stare at him incredulously. "Killian, you're his parent too. I know you're not his blood, and we're not married, but...do you not see the way he looks at you? Or how intently he listens when you talk?"

Killian looked startled. Emma continued to gape until he blushed and looked away, grinning stupidly.

"We're in this together, Killian," she said, nudging him with her shoulder.

He raised his eyes to hers. "Aye, love. We are. And...as for why we didn't come after our son...the only explanation I can think of -- the only one I'll allow myself to consider -- is that we're going to return him to the exact moment in the future that he left, and our future selves just never got the chance to go on this little adventure with him."

 _Hope_. His eyes glimmered with hope. 

"Ok," she said, nodding. She was going to choose to share his optimism. Their love -- for each other, and for their son -- was their strength, and it would see them through, as it always had, in the end. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Her face felt puffy and sore. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to steady herself.

"Speaking of Ian," she said a little shakily, "what are we going to do with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"He got into a fight, Killian. At school. What are we going to do?"

Killian rubbed behind his ear. "I was really hoping _you_ would have an idea, love."

Emma laughed.

Suddenly the lights in the room grew dazzlingly bright. They blazed for a moment, nearly blinding Emma and Killian, before they darkened to near-blackness. After another few seconds they returned to normal.

Killian looked quickly to her.

"That's not me," she said.

The lights glowed in that strange way again. And then again. Emma stared in confusion, until after the fourth time, it hit her.

"Ian."

They made their way upstairs cautiously, uncertain of what they'd discover. Every light bulb in the house was buzzing and flickering. Emma was certain she heard the TV in the den turning on and off, as well as the radio in the bathroom.

The second floor was freezing cold.

"What the hell," Emma said.

"Stay here, love," Killian said, and went immediately to Henry's bedroom. Emma wavered, torn between following Killian and staying put. Since she really couldn't see what sort of danger could be located in Henry's bedroom and would warrant her remaining behind, she opted to follow. She had taken two steps towards Henry's bedroom when Killian was shouting for her.

"Emma! EMMA!"

Emma burst into Henry's room to find Killian leaning head and shoulders out of the open window.

"Killian," she said, running up behind him.

"He's gone! Ian's gone!"

He pulled out of the window so Emma could look. Emma caught a glimpse of his wide, terrified eyes before she was leaning out of the window. The snow on the roof definitely looked sat-in, and there were two skid marks, likely from sneakers, leading off the edge. She could just barely make out faint footprints in the frozen snow on the lawn, leading to the street.

Then she noticed something else.

"Killian! The streetlights!"

"I know," he said from just behind her. "Just like the ones in the house."

Beyond their street, past the forest of dark roofs and treetops, Emma could see all the lights in downtown Storybrooke blinking, as if a child were playing with the on-off switch.

" _Shit_ ," Emma said, stepping backwards into the room. "Do you think he heard us talking?"

"I'd say so," he said slowly.

"What?" she asked, sensing he was holding something back.

"Emma, it's likely he's been wondering the same thing you have."

"You mean why we didn't come for him?"

"Aye."

" _Shit_ ," she said again. "Shit!"

She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands, thoughts racing. Ian was upset. Ian was running.

_Where would Ian run to?_

"Home," she said, voice muffled by her fingers.

"What, love?"

"Home. Ian's trying to run home. We need to get to the time portal."

-

"There's something I need to tell you," Killian said.

"This isn't exactly the ideal time for revelations, Killian," Emma said, a little too sharply. She was speeding towards Main Street, pushing the yellow bug to its limits, barely registering that she was blowing stop signs and red lights.

"It might be time for this one. Ian told me he's been having nightmares. He said they're premonitions that Zelena's coming."

"Yea, and?"

They already _knew_ Zelena was coming.

"I think this is it, love. I think that might be happening now."

She slammed on the brakes, bracing herself on the steering wheel. Killian was thrown forward, and then sideways as she took a hard left.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get my gun."

She expected him to argue, but all he said was, "Then it appears I require my cutlass. Mind stopping off at the Jolly Roger on our way to the station?"

-

David called her just as they were leaving the main streets of Storybrooke for the smaller roads that wove through the woods.

"Are you seeing this?" he asked. "All the lights in town are going crazy!"

"Dad, where are you?"

"I'm at home with your mother."

"Good, stay there. Can you call Regina? Make sure she's got Henry and the others at home? Make sure she stays there?"

"Emma, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Just -- can you do that for me?"

"Of course. Is...is there anything else?"

Emma heard how hurt her dad was, heard the confusion and the affront in his voice, but she shoved her emotions away, locked them up tight and _buried_ them.

"Keep your curtains open, ok? And watch the sky. I'll call you when we know more," she said, and hung up before her dad could reply.

"Emma, are you certain you want to do that?" Killian asked quietly.

"No," she answered. "But Zelena might not even be coming. And if she is...Ian said she was weakened when she opened the time portal. So if we're lucky..."

"And what if we're _not_ lucky?"

"I can't put my parents in harm's way," she said. Her throat was suddenly tight. "They have to take care of my brother."

Killian nodded. He offered her his hook, and she took it immediately. The metal was warm beneath her fingers.

"Let's go get our son," he said.

-

The streetlights, few and far between on the lonely road through the woods, flickered eerily. More than once Emma felt a shiver of unease run down her spine. When they reached the farm that feeling intensified. There was no moon, and the fields were pitch black and silent all around.

Emma could see Storybrooke off in the distance to the east, lights blinking erratically. The farmhouse was dark -- when her, David, and Ian had searched it a month ago they'd discovered the electricity had been disconnected -- but the barn doors were thrown wide and inside she could see the barn lights flashing and spluttering.

She and Killian jogged as quickly as they could through the churned up, hardened snow. Emma was breathing heavy well before they reached the barn.

"Ian!" Killian called. "IAN!"

But there was no answer.

The ground changed from snow to packed dirt as they reached the shelter of the barn, and Emma skidded to a stop.

"Ian!" she wheezed, peering around. The dim lighting from the ancient hanging lamps made it near impossible to get a good look around. At first glance, it appeared empty, and fear turned her insides cold.

Had they missed him? Had he gone somewhere else? Had he somehow managed to go through the time portal already?

Had he _left them_?

She heard a noise behind her and whipped around, nearly elbowing Killian in the stomach, and saw Ian huddled on a hay bale against the wall beside the door. Her legs went wobbly with relief.

" _Ian_ ," she breathed.

He lifted his head. 

" _I want to go home!_ " he sobbed. His face was bright red and his cheeks were shiny, but he had the wrung-out look of someone who had no more tears to give. His lip had split open again, leaking blood onto his chin.

"Hey, k-kid..." Emma stammered, teeth chattering from the cold. She took a few hesitant steps towards him.

"I don't want to be here anymore," he said, shaking his head. "I want to go home."

He looked so _young_ , like a scared little boy. Emma lowered herself carefully onto the hay bale next to him.

" _Please_ ," he whispered, turning towards her. "Please send me home."

"I can't," she said. Her vision grew blurry as tears gathered in her eyes. " _I don't know how to_."

His face crumpled and he fell forward, into her arms, and started crying. She felt him grip the back of her jacket and ball his hands into fists.

Emma held him through it, whispering, "It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay," in his ear, over and over, the way Killian had earlier. She was conscious of Killian standing close behind her, a warm, solid presence, his hand resting on Ian's head. 

Eventually, the lights stopped flickering. Emma knew Ian had calmed down, but she kept her arms tight around his shoulders until he took a deep, shuddering breath and sat back. Emma reached out and brushed the tears from his cheeks with a shaking hand.

"Let's go ho -- let's go back to the house," she said, voice breaking in the middle. 

Ian nodded, eyes downcast. He sniffled miserably.

"C'mon, lad," Killian said, and extended his hand. Ian took it, and Killian pulled him to his feet.

Emma noticed for the first time that Ian's jeans were torn and covered in dirt, and his palms were scraped.

"Hey," she said gently. "What happened?"

"I tried to open the time portal."

" _You what?_ " Killian asked.

"I tried to open it," Ian said, gesturing at the time portal. "But it didn't work...I'm not strong enough. I don't have enough magic. It just backfired."

Emma saw there were new scorch marks on the barn floor. They had obliterated large sections of the chalk-symbol circle surrounding the time portal.

"You're lucky it didn't kill you!" Killian said angrily. Emma laid a hand on his arm, and he bit back whatever he had planned to say next.

"Ian," she said carefully. "What about the trap?"

"Huh? Oh. I don't know. I guess I probably broke it."

Emma fought the terror clawing its way up her throat. She suddenly felt an urgent need to leave.

"It's okay," she said, eyes darting to Killian's. He nodded minutely in understanding. "It's okay. We can just do it over tomorrow. Regina's got the enchanted chalk at her house. Let's just get out of here."

"Aye, let's go," Killian said. He put one hand behind Ian's shoulder and they started steering him towards the open doors.

Suddenly, the hairs at the back of Emma's neck stood up. Beside her, Ian let out a shaky gasp and froze. Killian almost ran into them.

"What -- " he started, but he was drowned out by a booming roar as a pillar of fire erupted from the center of the time portal. It soared upwards, through the hole already blasted in the roof, and into the sky.

Emma stumbled forward and fell to her knees. Killian was there immediately, grabbing her arm, hauling her back to her feet.

"RUN!" he shouted.

She spun, grabbing for Ian, but had to throw both her hands up to shield her eyes from the light of the time portal. She heard laughter. It filled her ears, growing in intensity until two figures were suddenly thrown from the portal to the dirt floor of the barn. The time portal winked shut, taking the noise with it, leaving only Zelena's insane cackling.

Emma blinked rapidly, trying to clear the afterimage of the time portal from her vision, trying to get her bearings. There were two people crouched on the ground near the center of the time portal. One was clearly Zelena -- green skinned and clad all in black -- and the other one, the one wearing chain mail, breast plate, and tasset...that must be Mordred.

"Emma!" Killian rumbled. His hand was on her arm again, pushing her towards the door. "Emma! Take Ian and get out of here!"

"No. No, I'm not leaving you!"

"Emma! GO!" Killian said. He drew his cutlass and shifted so he was standing in front of her, shielding her.

"Ooooh, what do we have here?" Zelena asked, eyes alighting on Killian, Emma, and Ian. She drew herself up, but her grin turned into a grimace of rage when she saw Ian.

" _You_!" she howled, and -- Emma might have been imagining it -- she sounded _frightened_.

"Yea, _me_ ," Ian growled. He bolted forward, pushing past Killian, but Killian was faster. He dropped his sword and grabbed Ian's arm. Killian jerked Ian backwards, towards Emma, but kept a grip on Ian's wrist.

"LET GO OF ME!" Ian snarled, struggling, eyes on Zelena and Mordred.

"Don't be a fool!" Killian shouted back.

Emma saw white light blooming around Ian's hands and rushed to grab his other arm.

" _Let me go!_ " he said again. Big, angry tears streamed down his face.

"Ugh, this is boring," Zelena drawled, and waved her hand.

Emma felt her entire body go numb. She tried to move, but found she couldn't. The only thing she could move was her eyes. She looked sideways, as far as she could, and saw Killian and Ian standing motionless beside her.

The use of magic seemed to have cost Zelena, however, because she slumped sideways. Mordred caught her and eased her to the ground.

" _Kill them_ ," Zelena said to Mordred, breathing heavily. "Kill them and we can get out of here."

Mordred drew a knife from a sheathe at his belt and stalked towards them. Emma saw his face clearly for the first time. He looked like Queen Guinevere. He had her complexion, her thick, curly black hair, her delicate features...but in his dark eyes was a light that she recognized: it was the same manic gleam Arthur had had in his.

Mordred's gaze roved over Killian, lingered on Ian, then rested on Emma. His expression hardened, and she saw his grip on the knife tighten.

Emma tried to reach her magic, straining, searching frantically for it, but it felt maddeningly just beyond her reach. Mordred was drawing closer, closing the gap between them slowly, watching her warily, clearly expecting some sort of magical attack -- but none came.

"What are you waiting for? _Kill her_!" Zelena shrieked.

Mordred lifted his knife, leveling it at her heart, and lunged.

Emma braced herself. She wished she could see Killian, wished she could look into his eyes one last time. Just as she was wondering how much it was going to hurt, just when she thought it was over, Ian was there.

For one intensely long second she thought he'd broken free of Zelena's spell only to take a blade to the heart, but then Ian shifted slightly and she saw several inches of glittering steel protruding from the back of his hand: he had caught Mordred's knife hand with his own, and the knife had plunged through his palm. Emma saw Ian's hand convulse, and then his fingers curled, closing over Mordred's fist and holding it there. Blood gushed from the wound, streamed down his hand and over his wrist, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his shirt. Great, fat droplets fell to the dirt floor. Emma heard them splatter against the ground.

"How dare you!" Emma heard Mordred growl. What might have been a handsome face was now ugly with rage.

" _Fuck you_ ," Ian spat back, but Emma heard the strain in his voice. Mordred's other arm reared to strike, but Ian's free hand snapped up and caught it at the wrist.

They were both stock still for one long, tense moment. Then Mordred's eyes narrowed, and Emma saw him tilt forward, throwing all his weight against Ian. Mordred might be the same age as Ian, but he was _much_ larger. He had wide shoulders and thick arms -- likely from hours of swinging a sword -- and he was a full head taller than Ian.

Ian was panting, pushing back, and he held him for a few seconds, but then he took his first, sliding step backwards, and Emma knew that was it. Mordred's grimace morphed into a triumphant grin.

Emma heard Killian's heavy, panicked breathing from beside her. She screamed inside her own head. She didn't want to watch Ian die. She  _couldn't._

She reach again again for her magic, fumbling...

Gold's words came back to her: _Magic is emotion._ _You have to think who you want to protect._

Emma _knew_ who she wanted to protect. _That_ wasn't the problem.

_Feel it._

It was there, she knew it was there, she sensed it...

Ian took another step backwards, and another. Emma could see the sweat dripping down the back of his neck, she could see the river of blood pouring from the wound in his hand...

_FEEL IT!_

For the first time in weeks, magic rippled through her. She didn't waste time thinking, she just released it. A wall of white light exploded from her, passing through Ian and Killian but sending Mordred reeling backwards. The knife was ripped from Ian's flesh, and Ian screamed as he fell to the ground. He hit the dirt and folded inwards, cradling his torn hand to his chest. Emma dropped to her knees next to him, taking his shoulders, trying to pull him back, pull him _away_.

She was vaguely aware of the hiss of a sword being drawn, of rushing footsteps, of Mordred shouting, but then there were _other_ footsteps, and _another_  shout. Killian's cutlass met Mordred's descending sword with a resounding ring that hurt Emma's ears.

Killian disengaged his sword from Mordred's in an intricate move that sent the boy staggering backwards again. Killian was upon him instantly. There was a quick succession of clangs as their swords darted like lightning. Emma knew enough about sword fighting to know they were each feeling out their new opponent, testing them. She split her attention between Ian and Killian. Ian was still turned away from her, and she couldn't tell if he was conscious or not.

"Ian!" she said, hauling on his arms, trying to roll him over.

Emma glanced up. Killian was clearly on the defensive. He met Mordred blow for blow, but he didn't advance. He kept his body solidly in front of Emma, blocking all paths to her and Ian.

Mordred probed Killian's defenses, darting left, then right, attempting to lure Killian away from Emma and Ian, trying to create an opening. The clash of steel against steel rang sharply throughout the barn.

"Ian. Ian, kid, you've got to stand up."

Emma finally got Ian onto his back. His eyes were narrowed against the pain, and he was panting, breaths rapid and shallow. 

Killian held his ground, adapting to Mordred's change in position, sidestepping with ease. Emma looked up, and through their legs she saw Zelena hunched on the ground directly across from her, not more than thirty feet away.

She realized she had an opening. Killian was occupying Mordred, and Emma... Emma could run over here right now, while Zelena was weakened, and _end_ it.

Emma looked down at Ian -- pale and pouring sweat -- then back at Zelena. Her heart hammered in her chest. It was like a drumbeat in her ears, drowning out the sound of Ian's breathing, the clang of swords, _everything_.

Zelena's eyes left Mordred and Killian, and locked on Emma's. Zelena's eyes widened in fear, and then her entire face spasmed and she screamed, "Mordred!" 

Mordred turned his head slightly, attention wavering for a fraction of a second. That was all Killian needed. He swooped in, sword flashing, and Mordred was knocked to the ground as Killian's full strength came down on his shoulder. As he fell, however, his leg kicked out, towards Killian's knees. Killian dodged it easily, but he was forced to take several steps sideways, leaving Morded enough time to scramble to Zelena's side. Emma noticed the arm Killian had just slashed hanging uselessly, and armor covering his shoulder completely caved in.

Mordred reached Zelena and she grasped his good arm, then they disappeared in a cloud of green smoke, leaving Killian, Emma, and Ian alone in the barn.

Killian let out an angry bellow and struck the ground with his cutlass, driving the point deep into the packed earth. He turned on his heel and rushed towards them. He knelt on on Ian's other side.

"We have to get him to the car," Emma said, before either of them completely _lost_ it.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"

"It's faster for us to drive him to the hospital ourselves."

They each took one of Ian's arms and hauled him to his feet, and they staggered towards the car. It was the longest walk of Emma's life. She kept her eyes fixed on the yellow bug, watching it grow closer and closer at an agonizingly slow pace. They were ten feet away from the car when Ian suddenly sagged in their arms, completely boneless. He pitched forward. Emma and Killian threw their own weight backwards, barely keeping him from crashing to the ground.

"He's about to pass out," she said to Killian. "I think he's going into shock."

"Ian!" Killian said loudly. "Ian, lad, you've got to stay awake! Fight it! You've got to fight!"

Ian groaned, but managed to get his feet back under himself. They stumbled the last few steps to the car, and settled Ian into the backseat as gently as they could.

"You drive," Emma said, fumbling the keys from her pocket and stuffing them into Killian's hand.

She got in beside Ian and put an arm around him, supporting his weight, trying to keep him upright, trying to keep him awake.

Killian sped back towards town. His knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched tight. They were halfway back when David's pickup truck sped past them in the opposite direction. Emma glanced out of the back window and saw the truck skid to a halt and do a U-turn. 

"Your parents?" Killian asked.

"Yea," she said. The trucks headlights grew brighter as her parents caught up. 

She turned back to Ian, thinking to tell him grandma and grandpa were there, thinking that might somehow comfort him, when she saw his hand.

"Killian," she said hoarsely, "You need to drive faster."

"What? What is it?"

Emma saw his wild eyes in the mirror, wide and terrified.

"Ian's hand is black."

"What?"

"His hand is black."

The wound was still bleeding sluggishly, but the surrounding skin had turned black.

" _Fuck_ \-- Emma, it's poison."

She felt the car jump forward as Killian slammed the gas pedal down.

"Ian," she said, shaking him by the shoulders. She saw a faint glimmer as his eyes opened, but they closed almost immediately. "Hey! Ian, hey! Wake up!"

"Emma! Emma tell me what's happening!"

Emma pulled Ian against her chest. His head lolled onto her shoulder. 

"Stay with me," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Stay with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DING DONG THE WITCH IS HERE


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any errors until tomorrow night; I'm not looking at it again until then. Enjoy!!!

"Ian, wake up! Wake up!"

Killian looked down at the limp body he carried, hoping to see Ian's brilliant blue eyes looking back at him, hoping to see a smirk, hoping the boy was _alive_ , but what he saw was Liam -- Liam dying in his arms all over again.

Killian forced his legs to move faster, ignoring the way his muscles protested. Ian didn't weigh nearly as much as Liam had -- Liam had been _so heavy_. Ian was lighter, smaller, but somehow that made it worse.

The hospital doors slid open as Killian approached. He entered at a run, passing from darkness into dazzling light. Killian blinked hard, looked wildly around, searching for Emma, who had dashed into the hospital ahead of him. There didn't seem to be anyone around. Killian didn't know where to go, he didn't know what to do --

He looked down helplessly at his boy. Beneath the bruises and the blood, Ian's skin was a pallid, lifeless grey. He looked peaceful. _Liam_ had looked peaceful, too.

"IAN!" he shouted. "Ian, _please_!"

Ian's eyelids fluttered open, and Killian cried out in relief.

"Thank the gods! Stay awake, lad!"

"Dad?"

"Yes! Yes, it's dad!" he said.

"Why's my hand on fire?" Ian mumbled.

Killian's blood ran cold.

"I-it's not, lad. Your hand's fine. You're okay. You're going to be alright."

"It's _burning_." Ian's eyes closed again, but his grimace and furrowed brow told Killian he was still conscious -- and in pain.

"I know. I know it hurts. Just stay awake. Stay with me. We're going to take care of it," Killian said, while inside he was cursing. Whatever poison the boy Mordred had coated his blade with appeared to be a sluggish one -- the black splotches radiating from Ian's wound had only progressed to his wrist -- but Killian knew from studying dreamshade that the slower poisons tended to be the more excruciating ones. The boy might die from shock before the toxin even reached his heart.

"Killian -- here!"

Killian spun towards her voice. Up the hallway raced Emma, leading a charge of nurses pushing one of those beds on wheels. Killian rushed forward to meet them, and laid Ian down on the gurney as gently as he could. The nurses reversed direction, propelling the bed back the way they had come. 

"You're going to be okay, kid. You're going to be okay," Emma said, as her and Killian jogged alongside, keeping a firm hold on Ian. "Just hang on."

The boy was breathing hard through gritted teeth, curled around his torn, blackened hand, every muscle in his body clenched tight. Killian was vaguely aware of hurried footsteps behind him and the sound of Emma's parents' voices. There was a conversation: David and Mary Margaret asking questions, Emma answering them, and then silence except for their pounding footsteps and Ian's pained gasps. Killian felt as if a fist gripped his heart. Every note of suffering that escaped Ian's lips made that fist squeeze tighter.

Dr. Whale appeared ahead of them, and the nurses angled the bed into the doorway he'd just stepped from. Emma and Killian made to follow, but Whale blocked their path with an outstretched hand.

"We'll take it from here," he said.

" _What?_ " Killian blinked at him.

"I said we've got this," said Whale. "You can wait outside."

"That's my son," Killian snarled. "I'm not leaving him." He raised his hand -- either to punch Whale or throttle him, he wasn't sure which yet -- but then Emma was gripping his wrist.

"It's okay," she said, her voice low and soothing in his ear.

"But -- "

"Let them do their jobs."

He knew she was right, knew they'd only be in the way, but he didn't want their boy to be alone, not for this.

"Ian -- "

"Ian knows we're here. The best thing we can do for him right now is let Whale work."

Confident that he wouldn't be followed, Whale spun on his heel into the room and closed the door, leaving Emma and Killian alone in the hallway. Killian rolled his arm in Emma's hand so he was grasping her forearm and turned to face her.

"Emma...Emma if Ian dies -- "

" _Stop_ ," Emma said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Just stop."

She tried to pull away from him, but he held tight. 

"No! You have to listen to me! Emma, if he dies, give him my heart."

Her eyes shot open. "Your _heart_?"

"Yes," he said. "It's all I have, Emma. It's all I can give him if...if..."

He swallowed hard.

Emma glared. "And then what?" she hissed. "Our son grows up without his father?"

"I'd rather this one," he said, letting go of her arm to brush his fingers along her belly, "grow up without me than the other one not grow up at all. He's only thirteen. His story's just begun. I'll not allow it to be cut short. Not if I can do something about it."

Emma didn't respond, she just frowned stubbornly at him. Killian stared imploringly back.

There was a strangled scream from Ian's room, followed by a loud, metallic crash, making both Killian and Emma jump. Killian reached for the door but it was ripped open before he even touched the handle. Dr. Whale leaned out, eyes blazing. "You -- " he said, pointing at Killian, "and you -- " he pointed over Killian's shoulder. Killian glanced back and saw David, whom he assumed had left with Mary Margaret, "get in here _now_."

Ian was on the bed. The nurses had scattered to the edges of the room. The crash Killian had heard was explained by the table lying on the floor next to an upturned basin, both in a puddle of water.

"Hold him down or I'll have to strap him down," Whale said to Killian and David. "I need to rinse his wound."

Vowing to introduce Whale to his hook one day -- when Ian wasn't injured and they didn't _need_ the doctor -- Killian hurried to his son's side, growling " _He's not going to hurt you_ ," at the nurses as he passed.

"Dad," Ian whimpered, tears standing out in his eyes.

Killian tried to sound calm. "C'mon, lad. Let Whale have a look," he coaxed, tugging at Ian's shoulders, trying to peel his arm from his chest. On the other side of the bed hovered David, unsure how to help.

"I want mom to fix it," Ian said.

In his peripheral vision, Killian saw Emma standing in the doorway.

"She can't right now, you need to let the doctor -- "

"Why? Why can't she heal it?"

Killian hesitated. He didn't want to lie to the boy, but he didn't want to frighten him, either.

"There's something in the wound that's resisting your mother's magic," he said carefully. "Whale and the nurses need to clean it."

"Is it poison?"

For the first time, Killian wished Ian wasn't so perceptive.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Ian's eyes went wide with fear.

Dr. Whale cleared his throat pointedly. The table had been righted and the basin of water replaced.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time _I_ was poisoned?" David asked calmly, drawing Ian's attention.

"You were in Neverland," Ian said. He looked past David, warily eyeing Whale as Whale dragged on a pair of blue latex gloves.

"Yea. I got hit with an arrow by a Lost Boy. It was -- "

"Coated with dreamshade."

"That's right," David said. "I knew I was going to die, but I kept it a secret from Mary Margaret -- your grandmother."

"Because you didn't want her to worry. And you didn't want to distract everyone from rescuing Henry."

"That was part of it. The other part was that I was afraid."

Ian's eyes snapped to David's.

" _You_ were afraid?"

David chuckled. "I was _very_ afraid. I didn't want to _die_. I had just gotten my family back, and I was about to lose them again."

As David spoke he pulled Ian's arm away from his chest, extending it out towards Dr. Whale.

"Your _dad_ \-- " David glanced at Killian, "knew I was poisoned, and knew I was keeping it a secret, but instead of letting me die -- which would have made it easier for him to _pursue_  your mother -- he led me to the cure."

"Grandpa," Ian said, cutting him off. "Dad's told me this story too. Trust me, ten of you couldn't have stopped him -- "

"This is going to hurt," Whale said abruptly, and that was all the warning they received before Whale was pouring water over Ian's hand. Ian screamed again. Killian threw his arms around the boy's chest and David seized Ian's arm, holding it steady. Ian fought them, thrashing from side to side, attempting to wrench his hand free, but Killian and David held on.

"Ian! Ian, lad, it's okay!" Killian said, while Ian continued to struggle in his arms. The fist gripping his heart squeezed so hard Killian thought his heart would burst.

Whale doused the boy's hand again, and this time the lights flickered and the table holding the basin of water began vibrating as if in an earthquake. Emma rushed over and took Ian's face in her hands, cradling his cheeks in her palms.

"Ian. Ian, hey, look at me."

Killian couldn't see Ian's face, but he saw Emma smile and knew Ian had done as she asked. The lights stopped flickering and the table stilled.

"Ok, listen. You're going to be alright. I need you to calm down -- "

"Yea, before you hurt -- " Whale started.

"Hey!" Emma said sharply. "He's _not_ going to hurt you."

Whale's mouth snapped shut. Emma turned back to Ian.

"You have to let Dr. Whale clean your hand."

"It _hurts_ ," Ian said. Killian felt warm tears spatter against his hand where it was braced across Ian's chest.

"I know, babe. I know it hurts. But you've got to let Whale clean your hand."

Ian didn't respond.

"You can do this, lad," Killian said. "Just hold still and it'll be over before you know it."

"Ok."

Killian met Emma's eyes over Ian's head. Her mouth was set in a thin, firm line, and she looked _angry_. Killian wished he was angry -- he knew he would be, eventually, but for now all he felt was powerless. Rage would have been preferable to the desperation that filled him.

Dr. Whale redoubled his efforts. Killian felt spasms go through Ian's entire body as Whale worked -- switching from pouring water to scouring away the dried-on, caked-on chunks of blood with a gauze pad. David continued to hold Ian's arm, but it was no longer for restraint, it was for support. He looked as if he might vomit. Killian himself wasn't squeamish -- he'd seen plenty of horror in his lifetime -- but he could barely stomach looking at Ian's hand. The wound was ragged, and at certain angles Killian could see _through_ it. The worst part, however, was the way Ian's flesh was turning black, as if it was rotting. 

Instinctively, Killian clutched Ian closer. He felt Liam's ring pressing against his arm. It rested on Ian's chest beneath his shirt. That ring had kept Killian safe more times than he could count; he prayed it would do the same for his son.

A nurse put a pile of blankets on top of Ian, and Killian pulled them up the boy's chest, covering him as best they could while he was sitting. Another nurse brought a tray of instruments over and placed them at Whale's elbow.

"What are those for?" Killian asked.

"We have to close these wounds up," Whale said, not taking his eyes from his work. "Prevent infection. Begin the healing process."

"What about the poison?" Emma asked. It had spread halfway to Ian's elbow.

"Do you have any idea what it is?"

"No, but Regina's on her was with Mary Margaret -- "

"Until she gets here, the best thing I can do for Ian is to stitch up his hand and give him a sedative to help slow the progression of the poison."

"Ok," Emma said quietly, nodding. She dragged one of the chairs over to the bed, near where Killian sat with Ian half in his lap, and sat down. She peered up into Ian's face, and said sweetly, "Hey, big guy. How're you feeling?"

Ian didn't answer, he just shook his head.

"I know," Emma said. "Dr. Whale's going to stitch your hand up. And then we're going to give you something to help you sleep, okay?"

This time, Ian nodded.

Killian saw the needle Whale was threading -- a curved one with a wicked sharp point -- and readjusted his grip on Ian. David did the same.

Emma grabbed Ian's free hand. "I want you to squeeze my hand when it hurts."

"Ok."

"Ready?" Dr. Whale asked, hooked needle poised over Ian's palm. When Ian nodded, Dr. Whale bent to his task.

Ian let out a low hiss as the needle pierced his skin and the thread was pulled through for the first time. Ian was gripping Emma's hand so tightly his knuckles were white. He started to turn his head towards Whale, but Killian stopped him.

"Don't look, lad. You don't need to see this."

Ian turned his head the opposite way, into Killian's shoulder.

"This sucks," he said against Killian's jacket.

Killian almost laughed. He kissed Ian's hair.

_My brave, brave boy._

-

Killian was grateful when, five minutes after the nurses had inserted an IV into his arm, Ian fell asleep. Whale had finished the first set of sutures on Ian's palm and was beginning the second on the back of his hand when Killian heard Henry's voice coming from the hallway.

"Shit," Emma swore. She leapt from her chair and ran from the room to intercept him.

"Henry -- " Killian heard her say.

"You can't stop me. I'm going in there. Ian's my brother!" Henry answered, and then he was standing in the doorway. He froze when he saw Ian.

"Is he...he's not...?" Henry asked.

"He's okay," he heard Emma say, and knew it was an automatic response, because Ian was very, very far away from _okay_.

Regina and Mary Margaret crowded in behind Henry. Regina, for once wasting no time on sarcastic observations, went directly to stand beside Dr. Whale. Henry drew closer hesitantly. When he caught sight of Ian's hand, Killian saw him gulp.

"Zelena did that?" he asked shakily.

"Mordred," Emma corrected gently. 

"He used poison," Henry observed, brow furrowing.

"Yes."

"Do you know what it is? Are you going to make an antidote?"

"All we know is that my magic won't work on it," Emma said, and she looked quickly to Regina.

"A poison with magical properties...those are very rare..." Regina muttered to herself. She leaned forward to squint at Ian's hand. "I think it's safe to assume whatever it is likely grows in Camelot -- "

"Crimson Crown," Henry said.

Everyone looked at him.

"It's a deadly poisonous, magical toadstool that grows in Camelot," he explained.

Regina stared for a moment longer, then said, "He might actually be right."

"How do we find out for sure?" Emma asked urgently.

"There isn't exactly a test for this sort of thing. The best we can do is use the Crimson Crown we have to try and craft an antidote, then give it to Ian and hope it works."

"Then do it," Killian said. " _Please_."

"What if it's _not_ a Crimson Crown?" Emma asked. Killian saw her hands ball into fists.

"Then we look for the next best option," Regina answered.

"In case you haven't noticed, we don't have _time_ to play guessing games," Killian said furiously. 

"I can go with Regina," Mary Margaret volunteered. "I'll do research and look for alternatives while she makes the antidote. Maybe we can get Belle to help as well."

"Thanks, mom," Emma sighed.

"I want to help too," Henry said.

Regina looked at Emma and Emma nodded.

"Let's not waste anymore time then," Regina said. She took hold of Henry and Mary Margret's arms and with a whoosh they disappeared in a swirl of purple smoke.

-

Whale finished Ian's sutures, and while he wrapped Ian's hand in fresh white linen, Killian, Emma, and David gently worked Ian out of his soiled, bloody clothing and into a clean hospital gown. They left Liam's ring around his neck. Emma touched it once, briefly, before they tucked Ian beneath a pile of blankets. Killian thought about the first time they'd seen Ian: this fierce boy with a wicked smirk and flashing eyes...he'd been in a hospital bed then, too. But now...now he looked lifeless, like an empty shell the real Ian had left behind.

Whale made to leave, but Emma stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Killian couldn't find his own voice to offer the doctor gratitude as well, so he just nodded.

"It's not a problem," Whale answered. "And I'm sorry for how I acted earlier, when..."

"It's fine," Emma said.

"I'll be back to look in on Ian in a little while. In the meantime, you should get checked out, too," Dr. Whale said to Emma.

"What? I'm not hurt."

"No, but you're pregnant," Dr. Whale clarified. "Stress can be dangerous for pregnant women. You should go upstairs and have the OB/GYN take a look at you and the baby."

A memory rose unbidden in Killian's mind: Mordred lunging at Emma and the baby -- his _entire world_ \-- with a knife.

"Please, Emma. He's right," Killian said. "Go see the doctor."

"Emma, you should really go," David added.

Emma chewed her lip, glanced at Ian, then back at Killian. She took two steps forward and hugged him. His arms went around her immediately, and for the first time he realized just how close he'd been to never being able to hug her again.

"I'm scared," she said.

"Me too," he admitted. "But I can't bear the thought that you or the baby might be hurt. Please see the doctor."

"Okay," she said softly.

He held her until she was ready, until she stepped away from him, shoulders squared and that stubborn frown back in place.

"Go," Killian said, smiling a little. Emma was his _tough lass_ , and Ian was their _brave boy_. "Your father and I will watch over Ian. He won't be alone."

Emma leaned in once more, kissed Killian's cheek, whispered, "I love you," against his skin, and then she was gone.

-

"I have to apologize," David said, breaking the silence. They'd been sitting side-by-side next to Ian's bed for nearly half an hour, with nothing but the sound of Ian's breathing and the steady beeping from the monitors to keep them company.

"Pardon?" Killian said. 

"I said I have to apologize."

"For what, mate?" He asked distractedly. He was afraid to look away from Ian. He had the boy's good hand in his own, thumb rubbing back and forth along his knuckles -- for Ian's comfort or his own, he couldn't be certain.

"For all the times in the past I called you a selfish pirate. For all the times I accused you of not caring for anyone except for yourself."

"Not that I don't enjoy hearing you say that you were wrong, but why are you bringing this up now?" 

"I heard what you said outside, about giving Ian your heart if he...if he died," David said quietly. Killian could hear how he struggled to get out that last bit. Just hearing it twisted Killian's guts into knots. "A selfish person wouldn't do that."

Killian shook his head. He wasn't going to accept praise for what he'd said. He would take Ian's place in a heartbeat, if he could. He would bear Ian's pain -- he would bear it tenfold -- if that meant Ian didn't have to suffer. He loved the boy more than his own life.

"You don't have to apologize," Killian said finally. "At the time, I _was_ selfish. I only cared about myself. I didn't have anyone else to care _for_."

"But you do now."

"Aye, I do now," Killian answered slowly. "Emma and Ian...I'd do anything for them. Henry, as well."

"You've changed a lot over the past year," David said. Killian heard the approval in David's voice, but he couldn't muster up an emotion in response. He felt as drained as Ian looked. All he could do was offer David the plain, simple truth.

"I'm trying to be the man Emma deserves -- the man our son deserves." 

"You're a good man, Killian."

"I'm not -- "

"You've become a man I'd be proud to see my daughter marry."

"What?" Startled, Killian tore his eyes from Ian's face to stare at David.

David shrugged. "Ian let slip that you two are married in the future."

"Did he now?" Killian asked dryly.

"Henry may have mentioned something about it too," David said, and grinned.

Killian felt David's optimism easing his fear. That's when he realized: that cheerfulness, it reminded him of Ian. 

"So?" David prompted.

"So what?"

"So, are you gonna...you know? "

"Perhaps one day," Killian said. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw David nod.

"Ian will be okay," David said quietly.

"I know," Killian said, even though he _didn't;_ he just hoped.

"He's tough like Emma," David continued. "And he's a survivor, like you."

Killian snorted. "I don't exactly think I'm allowed to call myself a survivor anymore, mate."

"Well..." David gestured helplessly.

Killian actually smiled.

-

David jumped up from his chair when Emma returned and shooed her into it.

"How is he?" she asked, nodding towards Ian.

"The same," Killian said, and he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or worried about that. The spreading of the poison seemed to have slowed since Ian had fallen asleep: it was only at his elbow still. "Have you heard anything from Regina yet?"

Emma shook her head. The fear wiggled its way back into Killian's stomach. 

"I'm going to get the word out that Zelena's in town," David said. "Call me if...call me if anything changes."

"Aye, we will."

David bent over Ian, whispered something Killian couldn't hear, then kissed the boy's head. He kissed Emma's forehead as well, then clapped Killian on the shoulder and left.

"Well?" Killian asked Emma.

"It's a boy," she said, holding what Killian could see was an ultrasound picture out towards him. He didn't take it.

"I meant is everything okay? Are you and the baby alright?"

"We're fine," Emma said. "The doctor said I'm fine and the baby looks perfectly healthy."

It was like a dam broke inside him. Killian took Emma's hand and pulled her into his lap. He buried his face in her hair, against her neck.

" _I was so afraid I was going to lose you_ ," he said. Tears burned his eyes, left hot trails down his cheeks. One of Emma's hands went around the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair.

"It's okay. We're okay," she whispered.

-

Eventually his tears ran their course, and he felt empty again. Emma tried to slip from his lap but he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her there.

"Stay," he said. Her weight and her warmth were comforting. "Show me the picture again please, love."

She offered him the ultrasound picture, and this time he took it. He felt the tiniest bubble of warmth in the otherwise vast, cold sea of his misery.

"The doctor said it's a boy?" he asked.

"Yep. See _that?_ Right there?" Emma asked, tapping the ultrasound with her finger. "Definitely a boy."

Killian laughed.

He slipped his hand inside his jacket and took out the ultrasound picture from 4 weeks prior and held them side-by-side.

"He's grown," he said softly.

"And his legs actually look like legs now."

"They do."

"He was moving around a lot on the ultrasound."

"Yea?"

"Yea, he's a wiggly little guy. He's got a lot of energy. I wish you could have been there."

"Me too. Next time, love," he said, and kissed her cheek. He tucked the pictures into his jacket, and laid his hand gently against her belly. "Can you feel him yet?"

"No," she said, laying her hand over his. "But if he keeps on moving like he just was I'm sure I'm going to feel him soon."

"You'll let me know as soon as you do, right?"

"Of course," she said. She leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for some time, holding each other, watching Ian. The waiting was easier with Emma there with him.

After a while, Emma sat up. "About what you said earlier...about giving Ian your heart..." she said.

"I meant it, Swan, if -- "

"Just to be clear," she interrupted, her anger flaring. "If something happens we are not giving Ian your heart. We are storming the Underworld and getting him back. _Together_. I am not losing both of you."

"Okay," he said, cowed by the vehemence in her voice.

"Fuck Hades. And fuck Zelena."

"Emma..."

"And fuck that kid Mordred. I wish you had killed him."

"Love, I -- "

"I mean it," she said fiercely. "I wish him and Zelena were dead."

"I wished he was dead too, when I saw -- " Ian suddenly bursting into motion, throwing himself in front of Emma, catching Mordred's knife hand with his own, the knife piercing his palm... "When I saw him almost kill you. I _could_ have killed him, Emma. I almost tried to. But then...he's only a child."

"He's _not_ a kid. _Ian's_ a kid. Mordred is a murderer."

" _Almost_ a murderer."

Emma looked like she wanted to argue.

"You have to trust me, Emma," he said beseechingly. "I understand your thirst for vengeance -- "

"It's not _vengeance_ ," she spat. "I want them dead so they can't hurt anyone else I love."

Ian's hand spasmed, and they both looked over at him quickly, looking for signs that he was waking up, or that he was in pain, but nothing happened.

"We'll stop Zelena," Killian said quietly, before Emma could resume arguing.

"By stop her do you mean kill her?"

" _No_."

Her eyes searched his, and then she said, confused, "How are you not angry right now?"

"I don't know," he admitted. His grip tightened on her hip. "I...Emma, if Mordred had killed you -- you and the baby -- I would have torn him apart without hesitation. And then I would have done the same to Zelena. I think...I think I'm too relieved you're both alive to be angry. And too scared," he added, looking to Ian. "But I know the anger will come later. That's why I need to say the things I'm about to say now, before the anger takes over."

She turned her head away and glared at him out of the corner of her eye, but he knew she was listening.

"Killing Zelena is the easy path. But it's wrong. If we go down that road, we will regret it every day for the rest of our lives. There are other paths; paths we _must_ take. For the sake of _us,_ Emma -- for our future. I don't want to build our future on Zelena's blood."

Emma narrowed her eyes accusingly at him. "That speech sounds awfully familiar."

He gave her what he hoped was a cheeky smile. "I may have plagiarized from your mother a bit. That moment, erm, _stands out_ in my memory."

"Why?" she asked curiously, and Killian knew he had convinced her, knew he had backed her down from the edge.

"Because it was the first time you acknowledged a connection between us."

Emma's eyes widened. Before she could speak, however, her phone buzzed. Emma fumbled for it, almost dropping it in her haste.

"It's Regina," Emma said. "They figured out how to make the antidote. She said it'll take them a few more hours...but they can do it."

They glanced at Ian, at the black splotches inching up his arm, past his elbow now.

"Tell them to hurry."

-

While they waited, they talked. For _hours_ Killian and Emma talked -- to each other, to Ian. Talking helped distract them, and they hoped Ian could hear them, hoped he was listening, hoped he knew his mother and father were there for him, waiting for him to come back to them.

-

It was dawn when Regina arrived with the antidote. The sun had seemed to rise more slowly than normal that morning. It painted the still, grey room with brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows. It threw its light under Emma and Ian's hair, making their blonde heads glow. Killian felt almost peaceful.

"We've got it!" Regina burst into the room, holding a small vial aloft triumphantly. Henry, Mary Margaret, David, Belle, and Dr. Whale followed in her wake.

Emma took the vial with shaking hands, uncorked it, and raised it to Ian's lips. Killian stood at her shoulder, waiting, breath held. Ian made a face and swallowed convulsively as Emma poured the liquid down his throat, but he didn't wake up. Emma and Killian stepped back and waited for several long, tense moments. The black splotches had spread over Ian's shoulder. If it this didn't work...if the poison wasn't Crimson Crown...

Suddenly, Killian blinked and realized the black was beginning to fade and recede.

" _Killian_ ," Emma breathed in relief. "He's okay."

Her hand shot out and gripped his, squeezing painfully tight. He squeezed back.

"Wait -- why isn't he waking up?" Killian asked quickly.

"He's still on the sedative," Whale said. He peeled Ian's eyes open one at a time and shined a small flashlight briefly in each. He nodded in satisfaction. "The antidote seems to have worked. It's best if he continues to sleep for a while longer. I'll bring him down from the sedative slowly."

Whale adjusted something on the IV line, then left.

"Regina," Emma said, turning to Regina. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

She hugged Regina, then reached an arm out and pulled Henry in too.

"You two saved him," she said.

Henry, blushing, closed his eyes and rested his head on Emma's shoulder. Killian laid a hand on the back of Henry's head.

"Thank you, Henry."

Henry nodded. "I didn't want to lose him either," he said softly. 

"I know, lad. I know."

-

Belle left shortly after she arrived. "This is sort of a private family moment," she said. "I don't want to intrude."

Emma and Killian thanked her for her help, and promised to check in with her later.

Regina took Henry home.

"I need to get back to Robin," she said. "We need to figure out our next move."

"Keep me in the loop," Emma said. 

"We will. You just..." Regina glanced past her, at Ian. "You just take care of Ian, for now. Let me worry about Zelena. You can jump in when you're ready."

"Ok," Emma said. Killian knew she had no intention of staying out of the fight for long, and he was right behind her.

Emma put her hands on Henry's shoulders. "I want you to go with Regina. You need to be somewhere safe, and right now that's with her. Got it?"

"But Ian -- "

"He's asleep, kid. You're not going to miss anything," Emma said, and smiled.

Henry looked at the floor dejectedly.

"We'll call you when he wakes up, okay? For now, get some rest. You've been up all night saving your brother."

Henry nodded, still looking sulky, but he followed Regina from the room.

"You two should get something to eat," Mary Margaret said.

"Mom, I don't -- "

"She's right," Killian said. Emma looked at him in surprise. "You need to keep your strength up."

"We'll stay with Ian," David said.

Emma reluctantly went with Killian in search of the vending machines. Emma checked her watch.

"I'm going to check and see if the little gift shop is open," she said.

Killian raised one eyebrow questioningly.

She shrugged. "They have better candy."

Killian chuckled. "Very well, love. Would you like anything from one of these...machines?"

"Sure. Surprise me," she said, and winked. "I'll be right back."

Killian located the one that dispensed coffee, inserted some coins, and started pushing the likeliest looking buttons. Nothing happened. Killian tried a few more buttons -- pressing them _harder_ \-- but still the machine ignored him.

And there it was, the fury that had lain dormant all night. It reared up suddenly, filling his chest with its suffocating heat, clawing at his throat. Before he knew what he was doing he had punched the machine, cracking its cheap plastic display and bruising his knuckles.

" _Fuck!_ " he swore, stumbling backwards. His entire hand stung. He flexed it experimentally. Nothing seemed broken. He looked at the places where he used to wear his rings --his reminders. He hadn't worn them in weeks. He hadn't needed to. But now...he'd gladly wear Zelena's teeth as a trophy, if he could. It would likely wipe the smile from her face, at least.

"Killian! Are you kidding me?" said Emma's voice. She was coming up the hallway towards him.

"I thought you had gone to the little shop, love," he said, trying to sound casual. He shook his hand as if that might make the pain go away.

"It's not open yet," she said. She took his hand, holding it delicately in hers. She raised her eyes to his, and they glinted dangerously. "Do you want to be in a hospital bed next to your son?"

"I -- no, love. I don't."

She stared at him for a moment longer, pinning him in place with her glare. Finally she looked away, and Killian felt a great pressure lift from his body.

"What did the machine do to deserve getting punched, anyway?" she asked.

"It refused to give me my coffee."

"You have to put one of the little Styrofoam cups under the dispenser. Otherwise it won't pour."

"Ah," he said, and watched as she put a little cup in the small metal recess and convinced the machine to dispense his coffee.

Once it was filled, she pressed it into his hands. It was unbearably hot, but it was a distraction Killian willingly embraced.

"Let's go get some fresh air."

Emma led him to the parking lot. It was freezing outside. Killian closed his eyes, let the chill seep inside. It didn't nothing to cool the rage boiling inside him, seething just beneath the surface.

"Thank you," Emma said. "For earlier. For convincing me that killing Zelena is wrong."

He felt her shoulder bump his. He sighed. Being a good man was difficult -- much easier to hunt down Zelena and bury his hook in her back. "You may have to repay the favor very shortly, love," he said quietly. "I'm feeling a little like destroying Zelena myself right now."

"We _can't_ ," she said. "There are other paths."

Killian grinned. " _Now_ who's plagiarizing?"

-

Emma carefully unwrapped the gauze from Ian's hand. His skin had returned to normal, except for the stitches.

"Go ahead, love," Killian said encouragingly.

Emma held her hand out over Ian's. White light poured out and drifted down. Ian's skin began to knit back together, pushing out the thick black thread of the stitches as it did. When Emma was finished, all that remained were two identical vertical scars on the back and palm of Ian's hand. 

Emma's brow furrowed. "I can't heal it completely. Maybe the wound was sitting too long..."

Killian slipped an arm around her waist. "That's alright, Swan. It's not as if it's his first scar. And anyway, girls _like_ boys with scars."

"Oh, yea? Who told you that?" 

"Some blonde lass. For the life of me, I can't remember her name..."

Emma elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"I _never_ said that."

"You didn't have to," he wheezed. "Your fingers did the talking for you."

"We're still in the room, you know!" David snapped.

-

It wasn't until dinner time that Ian finally woke up.

Killian was tapping at his phone's keyboard, trying out the "swiping" thing Ian had showed him. He glanced up to check on Ian and saw Ian staring back at him. 

"Ian!" Killian exclaimed. Next to him, Emma, who had been napping, curled up in her chair like a cat, startled awake.

"You're awake!" Emma said.

Ian smiled wanly at them.

"How do you feel?" Emma asked. 

"Like crap," he answered roughly. "What day is it? I'm _starving_."

Emma laughed. "How about some Granny's for dinner?"

"Mmm," Ian said. Then he frowned. "Wait -- Zelena! What -- ?"

He quickly looked at his hand, mouth dropping open in horror. He tried to sit up, but Emma and Killian pushed him back down by his shoulders. 

"Later," Killian said firmly. "We can talk about that later. For right now all you need to worry about is whether you want one or two orders of onion rings."

Ian stared, brows knit in confusion, then slowly his face relaxed. "How about three?"

"Don't push it, kid," Emma said, and Ian smirked. 


	38. Chapter 38

"Is it customary to release a patient in the middle of the night?" Killian asked. They were in the hallway outside Ian's hospital room, waiting for him to change out of his gown and into the extra clothes they'd brought him so they could go home.

"Well, maybe if you didn't stare daggers at Dr. Whale every time you saw him he would have let us stay longer," Emma said. She had _tried_ to convince Whale to keep Ian in the hospital a few more days for "monitoring", but he claimed Ian was fully recovered and, now that he was awake, no longer required hospitalization. She was certain Whale's refusal had something to do with the way Killian casually removed a metal file from his jacket pocket and used it to sharpen his hook whenever Whale was in the room.

"Whale's lucky I was merely _staring_ daggers and not _throwing_ them, Swan," Killian said darkly.

"If we can't kill Zelena we definitely can't kill Whale."

"Fine. I suppose the doctor can live," he said in mock resentment.

Emma knew that Whale was merely a convenient, temporary outlet for Killian's anger -- an anger he carried around like a blazing torch inside him. She'd had a moment of her own -- a moment of near-overwhelming fury -- when she'd fantasized about a good old fashioned burning-at-the-stake, featuring Zelena, but unlike Killian she couldn't function angry. Anger only clogged her brain, filled it with a red haze. So she'd built a wall around it.

Ian emerged from the room. He'd only been awake for a handful of hours, and he still looked pale and worn. The purple bruises on his cheek and jaw stood out lividly against his otherwise colorless skin, as did the old scar along his temple. He cradled his injured hand in his good one, and was flexing the fingers as if they were stiff. _That_ scar still looked fresh, the skin pink and puckered.

Behind its wall, her anger flared. She felt it, but she didn't let it affect her. Emma was very, _very_ good at building walls.

"Alright," Ian said, mouth set in a stubborn frown, "it's later."

Killian caught on first. "When I said _later_ , lad, I was thinking a few days..."

"Do we have a few days?" Ian asked. He quirked one eyebrow, and Emma saw a little bit of his normal self showing through. "Zelena's already had _one_. We have to find her before she recovers."

Emma and Killian glanced at each other.

"He's right," she said quietly to Killian. "Now's our chance. She's weakened, and I don't think she was expecting to be."

"Yes, about that..." Killian said, turning to Ian. "Why didn't the time portal drain _you_ when you tried to open it the way it drained Zelena?"

"Ah, well, probably because Zelena _opened_ it, and I...I tried to punch a hole through it," Ian admitted, cheeks coloring in embarrassment. "It just bounced me back instead of sucking me in."

Killian gave Emma a "that's _your_ son" type of smirk, which she ignored.

"We have another advantage," she said.

"What's that love?"

"Zelena wasn't expecting Ian to be here. Which means she wasn't expecting us to be expecting her."

"Which means she'll likely have to alter her plans," Killian said. "Which gives us even more time."

Emma checked the time on her phone. It was nearing 10 o'clock.

"What do you want to do love? We could go home and get some rest, then call everyone in the morning..."

Despite her lack of sleep, Emma felt wide awake.

"No. We have a family to protect. I'm going to call Regina and my parents."

Killian nodded. She saw approval and agreement warring with concern on his face.

"We can rest as soon as we have a plan. I promise."

"Rest isn't code for sex, is it?" Ian asked, nose wrinkling in disgust.

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Mind your business, lad," Killian teased, and tugged Ian's beanie down over his eyes.

Ian snatched the hat off his head. " _Mind my business?"_ he snarled. "As if I could if I tried! _As usual_ you two are flirting and making eyes at each other right in front of me. It's like when you look at each other nothing else exists!"

Killian turned to Emma. "It's exactly like that, lad," he said softly. Emma smiled at him. Their hands reached out simultaneously, fingers meeting and curling around each other. "I'm sure you'll understand one day."

"Yea, if a flying monkey doesn't kill me first," Ian muttered as he turned on his heel and stalked away down the hall.

Emma made to follow, but Killian pulled her back by the hand.

"What?" she said, looking anxiously between Killian and Ian's retreating back.

"What are we going to do about him?" he asked in a low voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how are we going to keep him from going after Zelena and Mordred? He'll not be content to sit around and do nothing. He's not the type."

Emma chewed her lip.

Killian continued. "We can't lock him away -- not that it would help when you've taught him how to get _out_ of every lock -- so our only option is to involve him."

"Or to make him _feel_ involved," Emma suggested. "Maybe we can have him do research with Belle? Or he and Henry can help watch the other kids at one of the protected houses?"

Killian shook his head dismissively. "He's not stupid, Emma. He'd know we were just trying to keep him out of the way. He's more like you than Henry is. He has your warrior's heart, Emma -- he's a _fighter_."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I think it's best if we keep him close and keep our eyes on him."

Emma knew it was true, even as all her instincts fought against it.

"Even if it means putting him in danger?"

"Did you happen to see the way Zelena looked at him? Or the way he looked at her? He's in danger no matter where he is or who he's with. Would you rather he be in danger with or without us there?"

"You're right," she admitted grudgingly.

He slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. "I know you want to protect him. I do as well. But I don't think hiding him away in the library with Belle or putting him on babysitting duty is how we're going to do that."

"Hey!" Ian's voice called from down the hall. "I thought we had to leave. Are you two coming? You're not making out, are you? There are cameras here, you know. Some creepy maintenance guy is probably watching you guys right now..."

"Well," Killian sighed. "At least we know the boy's spirit has recovered, even if his body hasn't yet."

"Our little ray of sarcastic sunshine," Emma said, and they grinned at each other.

-

Both Regina and her parents were (unsurprisingly) awake and agreed to meet at her and Killian's house right away. Ian yawned dramatically as soon as they walked through the door. "I'm going to bed," he said, and headed towards the stairs.

"Don't even bother, lad," Killian said, putting a hand on Ian's shoulder and spinning him back around. "We're not going to fall for that pretending to be asleep so you can eavesdrop act again."

"I don't want to be left out," Ian said.

"What happens if we say you're getting left out?" Emma asked. She had to at least _try_. She expected Ian to say he'd find a way _not_ to be left out, but he surprised her.

" _Please_. I know you're not going to let me actually help, but I at least want to know what's going on."

His words from the barn echoed back to her: _I don't want to be here anymore! I want to go home!_

Ian and Killian locked eyes, and, not for the first time, Emma saw something pass between them that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Finally, Killian looked to Emma, and she saw his plea for her trust. She nodded.

"What if we say we _do_ want your help?" Killian asked Ian.

Ian's mouth dropped open. "Really?"

"Aye."

"Wait," he said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. " _Really_ really? Or really like, 'you can guard the car' really?"

"I don't -- "

"It's from another movie," Emma said. "And we mean _really_ really."

"Wait, can you -- shouldn't you...do you need to, like, get a signed permission slip from my parents in order to let me do that or something?"

"We _are_ your parents, kid," Emma said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, sort of -- "

"Go take a shower and put on your pajamas before I change my mind about letting you help," Emma said, scowling.

"Pajamas? Why?"

"Because you're going to bed as soon as everyone leaves."

"Really?" he whined. "But I don't want -- "

" _Or_ , you could go to bed now," Killian suggested.

"Shower sounds great. Be down in ten," Ian said, and sprinted away up the stairs.

-

Emma's parents arrived first, towing baby Neal in his car seat. He was fast asleep, snuggled beneath a thick blue blanket with sheep printed on it. Mary Margaret put Neal in the front room then immediately rushed to hug her.

"Oh, Emma," she said. "Henry showed us the pages."

"Uh, the what?" she asked, tentatively putting her arms around her mother. She didn't understand.

"Henry used the Author's pen to write what happened at the barn."

"H-he did?" Emma said. At the hospital she hadn't told her parents how exactly Ian had gotten stabbed, or that she had nearly been the one stabbed.

"I think he was hoping it might help us find Zelena," David added.

"Oh." She hadn't wanted them to know. If Mordred had gotten to Emma, the baby...the baby would have...

"We're sorry," Mary Margaret whispered.

Emma leaned into the hug, fighting tears. "It's fine, mom," she sniffed. "We're all fine."

She felt a hand cupping the back of her head, and knew her dad had joined the hug.

"Do you need anything? Is there anything we can do?"

"Well, actually -- this might sound weird, but..." Emma pulled away, wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Can I hold Neal?"

"Of course!" Mary Margaret said, and she smiled sympathetically like she knew the exact reason for Emma's request. She eased Neal out of his carrier and put him in Emma's arms. Emma clutched her brother close, the warmth and the weight of him instantly comforting. She pressed her cheek to his soft dark hair, and thought of the vision from the unicorn horn, imagined a baby with fuzzy blonde hair like a duckling and big, bright blue eyes. She couldn't hold her and Killian's unborn child yet, but holding Neal...it sort of helped.

"May I, love?" Killian asked. Emma saw in his face the need for the same sort of reassurance as Emma had needed. She helped Killian get Neal -- still sleeping soundly -- settled in the crook of his hook arm. Seeing Killian with a baby -- it was almost too much. It brought on longing for the day baby Ian would finally be in her arms; for the day she could hold him and know he was _safe_.

"Hey there, little prince," Killian crooned, running the back of his index finger over one of Neal's plump cheeks.

Ian came down the stairs, fresh from a shower and wearing pajamas and a sweatshirt. "Hey!" he said when he saw Killian holding Neal. "That's _my_ dad. Get your own!"

Emma snorted. "He's asleep," she told him. "And he's _a baby_."

"Sorry," Ian said, giving himself a little shake. "Old habits. Hi grandma and grandpa."

"Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?" David said.

"Well, I got stabbed through the hand, poisoned, and then I had to watch these two making out, so you could say I've had better nights..."

"You were making out in front of him?" David asked, turning to Emma with an incredulous smile on his face.

"We were _not_ making out. And you know what? Dad? _Tacos!_ " Emma said. Both her parents faces flamed red.

"Tacos?" Killian asked, looking from Emma's parents embarrassed expressions to Emma's glare to the trying-to-hold-in-a-giggle squirm Ian was doing on the stairs. "What's she talking about?"

"It's, ahhhh...it's nothing. Just -- nevermind. Forget it," David said, flustered, but was saved from further explanation by a knock on the door.

Mary Margaret opened it to let in Henry, Regina, Robin, and Rowan.

"Roland's with Little John at the Merry Men's camp," Robin explained. "Since Zelena's not after him, I thought it safest to keep him as out of the way as possible."

"Good idea, mate," Killian said.

 Regina eyed Emma. "Are you _sure_ you're ready?" she asked.

"Yea, Emma, if you want to take a few more days..." David said.

"No, I'm ready," she said. "Let's get started."

Killian reluctantly relinquished Neal, who was placed back in his car seat. Next to tiny Rowan in her own carrier, Neal, nearly a year old now, looked like a toddler. Both babies were tucked into the den, where it was quiet. Emma passed out drinks -- hot chocolate, tea, and rum -- and the adults moved to the front room.

"What about _him_?" Regina arched an eyebrow in Ian's direction. He and Henry were on the couch, gleefully thumbing through the comics Henry had brought for Ian to read while he recovered.

"He's staying," Emma said. "Henry too. They're old enough to hear what's going on."

For a moment, Regina looked like she might argue, but then she said, "Very well."

The six of them arrayed themselves around on the various pieces of available furniture. Killian and Emma sat on the couch on either side of Henry and Ian. Killian threw his arm along the back, behind Ian and Henry's heads. Emma felt her hair being playfully tugged, and looked over to see Killian flash her a reassuring smile.

"Alright," said Regina, settling down on the couch opposite them. "The first thing we need to figure out is how we're going to find Zelena. She's had over 24 hours to go to ground, so she could be anywhere. And she's already familiar with Storybrooke, which doesn't help us. The Merry Men started patrolling the woods this afternoon, but so far they've turned up nothing."

"What about a locator spell?" Mary Margaret suggested.

"That requires one of her possessions," Emma said. "Do we have anything of hers?"

"Rowan?" Ian suggested.

Regina's eyes narrowed dangerously, and one corner of her mouth curled up in a sneer.

"What about clothes?" Emma said hurriedly, trying to save Ian from another visit from Dr. Whale, this time for burns. "Or a hairbrush? She must have left _something_ behind at the farmhouse."

"We got rid of everything of hers we could find," Regina said, reluctantly tearing her gaze from Ian. Emma glanced at him quickly to make sure Regina hadn't drilled any holes in him with her eyes, but he was still just pale, bruised, and exhausted.

"You didn't think there might be a use for it someday?" Killian asked.

"Like a voodoo doll?" Ian interjected.

"You know...maybe we could just put an ad in the paper for a midwife? That might draw her out," David joked, and he, Killian, Henry, and Ian all laughed.

"Perhaps the _adults_ could take this conversation to another room and leave the _children_ behind to pick each other's noses and laugh about it all night?" Regina said pointedly.

Killian, Ian, Henry, and David all sobered beneath her glare, but Emma distinctly heard David mutter, "I would pick your nose if you asked me to," to Killian, who replied, "And me yours, mate."

Emma wrapped her arm around Ian's shoulders and clamped her hand over his mouth to smother his snorts of laughter.

Luckily, Mary Margaret was talking and Regina noticed nothing. "It wouldn't hurt to search the farmhouse again. Perhaps there's something you missed," she said.

 "I agree. We should have a backup plan, however. I don't think it's likely we missed anything. We were... _thorough_."

"I guess that means we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way," Mary Margaret said.

"Alright, split up and search the woods it is," Emma said.

"As if we didn't all know if would come to this," Killian sighed quietly, and she felt that gentle tug on her hair again.

"We should round up as many people as we can," Regina said briskly. "The more bodies we have out there searching, the more likely it is we'll find Zelena. And the sooner we find her..."

"Right. What exactly are we going to do when we find her? We can't keep her here -- it'll completely throw off the timeline -- and we can't kill her," Emma said.

"Why not?"

Beside her, she felt Killian tense. "Because heroes don't do that," he said.

"He's right," Henry added.

"If we kill Zelena, we're no better than she is," David said.

"There are other options. Killing Zelena is the easy path, but we can't take that path or we'll regret it for the rest of our lives," Mary Margaret said. Emma glanced discreetly at Killian and received an eyebrow-waggle in return.

"Besides," Robin said, "as much as I hate Zelena... I don't think I could bear living with the blood of my daughter's mother on my hands."

He spoke quietly, but his words thundered in Emma's ears.

"Well," Regina said delicately. "We'll just have to send her somewhere _else_ then."

"Yea, because _that_ worked really well last time," Ian said. Emma regretted removing her hand from his mouth.

"What do _you_ suggest then?" Regina said, leveling Ian with a devastating glower.

"We have to send her back to the future," Emma said, without thinking. As soon as she said it, she knew it was the right answer.

"Zelena returned here because she wants a life with her daughter," Killian said carefully. "Perhaps, in the future, her daughter could convince her that, even though she missed the first 13 years, it's not too late to still have that life."

"After everything she did you want to -- " Regina started angrily, but Robin's calm voice cut her off.

"I'd like to give Rowan the chance to decide if she wants a relationship with her mother or not," he said slowly, looking at Regina. "In the future, if she does -- and if Zelena is willing to change in order to have that relationship -- I'd allow it."

"She'd want it," Ian said, and everyone looked at him. Emma saw despair in Regina's eyes. "She -- she's always known Regina isn't her biological mom, but...but she considers you her _real_ mom, despite that" he said, and he was speaking directly to Regina now. Emma could feel him trembling nervously next to her. "Rowan has too big of a heart not to want to at least give Zelena a chance."

Regina nodded shakily, and Ian's body relaxed.

"Ok, but how are we going to open the time portal?" Mary Margaret asked. "You said you couldn't do it, not without draining all your magic."

"We can worry about opening the time portal later," Killian said. "I'm sure we'll figure something out. But for now we need to focus on capturing Zelena and Mordred."

Everyone murmured their agreement.

"Let's meet tomorrow at daybreak at the farm," David said. "We'll form as many search parties as we can and spread out."

Everyone stood up and started making arrangements to leave. Her parents were out the door first -- they wanted to track down the dwarves before going home.

Henry wanted to stay, and Emma let him.

"But," she warned, "you're going to sleep immediately. It's already midnight and we have to be up before 6. Alright? Now, go say goodnight to everyone."

Emma saw Robin pull Ian into a bear hug, then Robin and Killian clasped arms and Robin said something to Killian that made him smile. Emma wished she could hear.

"Ok, go get ready for bed," Emma said, when Ian and Henry had finished their goodbyes. "We'll be up in a few minutes to check on you guys.

Henry and Ian were making for the stairs when Ian suddenly stopped.

"Wait, dad, before I forget -- here." He tugged his hospital bracelet off his wrist and started fiddling with it. White light flowed from his hands into the bracelet. Emma could _feel_ what he was doing, and she was impressed.

"What are you doing?" Killian asked.

The light faded, and Ian offered the bracelet to Killian. "I put a protection spell on it," he explained.

"No need to worry about me, lad, I can take care of myself. Perhaps someone else...your grandmother maybe -- "

"Dad, you're not exactly immune to magic."

"Killian, either you put it on or I put it on for you," Emma said. Killian looked helplessly from her to Ian, then meekly took the bracelet. It didn't fit over his hand, so Emma waved her hand and it appeared on Killian's wrist.

"That's...wow, I can feel it." Killian said, turning his wrist back and forth, looking at the bracelet in amazement. "How much magic did you put in here?"

"As much as I could," Ian said.

"Could you make more of those?" Regina asked, eyeing the bracelet with interest.

"No," Killian growled. "I know what you're thinking, and the answer's no. Our son is _not_ a power source to be used whenever you feel like it."

" _You_ got one," Regina pointed out.

Killian opened his mouth angrily, but Ian spoke first. "I can do it," he said. "No problem."

"I think I can do it too," Emma said hesitantly. "If I see it done again."

Ian grinned like it was the best day of his life. "Yea! It's pretty easy. We just need things to put the spell on. Jewelry works best. Rings, necklaces, earrings, whatever."

"Start with this," Regina said, and pulled a slim gold bracelet from her wrist. "For Rowan."

Ian took the bracelet reverently and worked the same spell on it he'd worked on the hospital band. When he was done, Regina made it appear on Rowan, looped twice around her small wrist over her pink pajamas.

"Thank you," Regina said.

Ian, blushing furiously, nodded mutely, and fled upstairs with Henry.

-

Henry and Ian were in bed -- sleeping or pretending to sleep, and Killian was cleaning up downstairs, so Emma took a shower. The stinging hot water soothed her tired, sore muscles. She stayed in there until the bathroom had filled up with steam and the walls dripped with condensation. As she stepped from the tub onto the bathroom rug, pulling a big, fluffy towel around her middle, Killian knocked on the door and it opened a crack.

"Whoa, love, when did you install a sauna?"

Emma giggled. It amused her that, even after months of living together, he'd still knock and wait to be invited in when she showered. And she _almost_ invited him in, almost asked him to get into the shower with her, but the heat, so pleasant a minute before, was now suffocating. "I'll be right out."

"I'll be waiting," he said, and she heard the smirk in his voice.

She took an extra towel from the rack and pressed it to her face. Behind her eyelids, the events of the night before played back: the time portal like a great pillar of fire, Zelena's face distorted with rage, Mordred about to plunge his knife into her chest, Ian's hand streaming blood, blood streaming down her thighs, Zelena holding a squalling newborn and cackling madly.

Emma gasped and dropped the towel. Her hands were shaking violently. That last one hadn't been a memory. Could it have been a vision? She shook her head to clear it. No. It wasn't a vision. She was exhausted, she was stressed...it was just her imagination running wild. She balled her hands into fists, willing them to stop quaking.

"Emma, is everything alright?" Killian's voice called. The door opened again, and this time Killian's face appeared in the gap. "I thought I heard something."

"Oh, I, uh, grabbed your towel but it had a spider on it and it, uh, startled me," she said.

The door opened wider, admitting Killian's shoulders and torso. "A spider?" he asked, grinning. "Would you like me to come kill it for you, Swan?"

" _Shut up_ ," she said. She snatched the towel from the floor and tossed it at him, trying to wipe the smile from his face. He caught the towel easily, but the grin remained.

"Would you like me to come in anyway?" he asked, and she heard the desire in his voice. He looked her over from head to toe, eyes dragging slowly upwards, along every inch of her bare skin. Heat flooded her belly suddenly, and she was filled with _want_. She dropped the towel from around her middle, and that was all the answer Killian needed. He slipped inside the bathroom, closed the door quietly behind him, then immediately shed his shirt, vest, and brace. The hook made a dull clunk as it landed atop his discarded clothes.

"Killian, I need you," she breathed. She needed to feel him inside her, she needed to lose herself in that physical connection, be anchored by it. He had her pressed against the bathroom wall in an instant, mouth hot against hers. She fumbled with his belt and zipper, trying to undo them and push his pants past his hips at the same time. She felt his growing hardness against her hands, and pulled him free. He felt full and heavy in the circle of her fingers. His hips jerked reflexively forward and he groaned against her neck.

"Emma, you have no idea...what you do to me," he panted.

" _Show me_ ," she challenged. He bent suddenly, and she found herself being lifted, her knees hooked over his elbows. Her arms went around his neck.

"Relax, love, I'm not going to drop you," he murmured, and she did, trusting him to bear her weight.

"Go slow," she urged. She wanted to lose herself in this -- in him. 

"I will," he said. She was already drenched, and he slid inside her easily, stretching her deliciously. Her back arched, and she clenched around him. 

"Emma, when you squeeze me like that..." he trailed off into a strangled moan as she did it again.

-

Body sated and mind pleasantly blank, she fully expected to sleep soundly that night. However, when she closed her eyes the strange images she'd seen after her shower returned, this time as nightmares. It seemed every time she closed her eyes, she was plunged again and again into the same scene: blood pouring down her legs, pooling at her feet, Zelena holding her baby.

Every time she awoke, Killian woke with her. He'd hold her, stroke her hair, and hum quietly until she fell asleep again. He didn't ask what sort of dreams plagued her -- he probably assumed they had something to do with the previous night -- and she was grateful.

The fourth time she woke up, her hands were trembling again. She sat up suddenly and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Emma, love, what is it?"

"I've gotta go make sure he's okay," she said.

Henry and Ian's room was dark and quiet, the only sound their soft breathing. She tiptoed to the air mattress Ian was on, curled up beneath a pile of blankets drawn up nearly to his ears, and sat next to it, folding her legs beneath her. Only his face from the nose upwards was visible. His eyebrows were creased anxiously, as if he was having a bad dream. Emma reached out and traced a finger along the scar on his temple.

What had happened to him that she hadn't been able to heal that one completely, either? Was it another magical wound? Had it just been left open for too long?

She signed inwardly. This isn't what she wanted for him. She wanted hockey for him. She wanted sailing with Killian for him. She wanted daydreaming about the girls he liked and awkward middle school dances for him. His life should be filled with those things, and not witches and time travel and poisoned daggers.

Ian startled awake, and Emma jumped too. He looked at her wildly, eyes round with fear.

"Mordred killed you," he said it like an accusation.

"No. No, he didn't," she said quickly.

"He did. I _saw_ it."

"Mordred didn't hurt me. No one did. You saved me," she said, and cupped his cheek.

"I didn't. I didn't save you," he said, and shook his head.

"Yes, you did. Shhh," she soothed. She ran her finger through his hair until his eyes drifted shut and he looked peaceful again.

"Emma," Killian's voice said quietly from behind her.

"Did you hear him?" she asked, without turning around.

He knelt beside her next to Ian's mattress. "Aye. It was just a dream, like you've been having all night," he said. "Let's go back to bed, love."

He helped her stand and led her back to their room. She clung to his hand, until they were snuggled against each other, his whole body folded protectively around hers. She felt safe again in the circle of his arms, but when she closed her eyes and fell asleep, she returned once more to the barn, where Zelena taunted her, holding her and Killian's baby aloft like a prize.


	39. Chapter 39

Belle and Marco were tasked with watching Roland, Rowan, and baby Neal at Emma's parents' loft the next day. Emma and Killian stopped by just to check in, leaving Ian and Henry half-asleep in the backseat of the bug. Pinocchio and Roland were playing Candy Land on the coffee table in the living room area. Marco was spooning oatmeal into Neal's eager mouth in the kitchen, and Belle was pacing, feeding Rowan from a bottle. David and Mary Margaret were at the counter preparing pack lunches for later.

"You guys look all set," Emma observed. Belle looked at Rowan with hearts in her eyes, and Emma knew she was dreaming of the day she'd have her own babies to hold. Marco was so visibly excited that Emma temporarily forgot that there was another crisis. She mentally put Marco on the list of possible future babysitters.

Killian looked from the oatmeal smeared on Neal's chin to the bottle Belle was holding and then to Emma. "You didn't eat breakfast this morning, love," he said.

"I -- no, I didn't," she said. She had felt too anxious. She knew if she ate something she'd just end up vomiting soon after.

"I've got more oatmeal, if you're interested," David, who had overheard, said with a grin. "It has all the essential vitamins and nutrients a growing toddler needs."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"You've got to eat something," Killian said.

Emma wanted to argue that she _couldn't_ , but then her mom bustled over and handed her a banana.

"Good for nausea," she said. "I have crackers too, if you want."

"The banana's good for now. Thanks, mom."

After Mary Margaret returned to the counter, Killian turned to her and asked quietly, "Emma, do you feel sick?"

"I'm just a little nauseous."

"I thought the morning sickness -- "

"It's not that. I'm just tired. I barely slept."

His eyes were anxious. "Maybe you should stay here and rest, love."

"I am _not_ staying behind. I'm _fine_." To prove it, she aggressively peeled the banana and took a huge bite, then said, "See? I feel better already...what?"

Killian was looking at her as if _he_ might be sick. "Now I know where Ian got his table manners from. Before, I'd merely thought the boy had been born in a barn, but now I see he's just like his mother..."

_Born in a barn._

She froze. The image of Zelena holding baby Ian in the barn flashing across her mind. A little tremor ran through her entire body, ending in her hands.

"Ian was born in a barn?" her dad asked, appearing abruptly next to them carrying an armful of brown paper bags with names written on them in Sharpie.

"No -- at least, I think not," Killian said. Emma could tell by his tone of voice that he had no idea how what he'd said had affected her.

David shrugged. "I was born in a barn and I turned out okay."

"I'll be right back," Emma muttered, and she headed for the bathroom, dropping her half-eaten banana in the trash on the way. Once inside, she bent over the toilet and hurled. The banana came back up, still in solid chunks, making her feel nauseous all over again. Luckily, there was very little in her stomach, and after some dry heaves her body was finished. She sagged to the floor, breathing raggedly.

She heard the door open and close, and then someone was kneeling on the floor beside her.

"I'm here, love," Killian said softly, brushing her hair back off her shoulders, away from her face. He placed a Kleenex in her hand, and she wiped her mouth with it while he rubbed her back.

"I guess I should have gone with crackers," she said tremulously.

"Are you certain it was just the banana?" he asked.

"Yea."

 Killian's touch was soothing. Slowly, Emma felt herself relax.

"I'm sorry if what I said about your manners offended you, Emma. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine, I'm not upset," she said, and then she chuckled. "Killian, I lived alone for ten years; I know I'm a little rough around the edges sometimes. And Ian's a 13-year-old boy. He's basically just a garbage disposal right now. I doubt he even actually _tastes_ half of what he eats."

"If _that_ were true we wouldn't have such a hard time getting him to eat vegetables," Killian said, and grinned.

The nausea had passed, and she felt nearly back to normal -- except for being tired. Emma started to stand, and Killian leapt to his feet.

"Hold on, love, I've got you," he said, and helped her up. Things that she had taken for granted before -- simple things like standing up -- were becoming slightly more difficult with the baby bump, small as it was (for now).

"Now, are you ready to go hunt down this witch?" Killian asked. Emma looked at him in surprise, and he said, "What I said yesterday about not being able to keep Ian out of a fight holds true for you, as well."

She smiled. "I'm ready. I should probably eat something though. Something that's not a banana."

Killian whipped a little plastic bag filled with crackers out of his pocket with a flourish. "From your mother. She left a water bottle on the counter for you as well."

"Did they leave?"

"Aye, I told them to go on ahead. I didn't think you wanted an audience."

"Did you make Marco and Belle leave too?"

"Well, no. But Marco's too polite to ask questions, and I don't think Belle's taken her eyes off Rowan since we arrived, so I doubt she noticed anything."

"Alright, let's go."

Killian was right. Neither Marco nor Belle batted an eyelash when they emerged from the bathroom. Emma opened the water bottle her mom had left her and took a tentative sip. Killian stood beside Marco and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We likely won't return until after dark. If you need anything, call us," he said.

"Of course," Marco said. Emma thought it unlikely either of them would need any help -- Marco held Neal like a veteran parent, and Belle was glued to Rowan.

"Just remember," Killian added, "stay in the -- "

"Stay in the loft," Belle said, as if she'd heard it a thousand times already. "We know. We will. We've got everything we need here."

Now that Emma had her magic back in full she could _feel_ the protection spell encasing the loft. It was strong -- ridiculously strong. She couldn't help the pride that filled her then: her and Killian's _son_ had done that.

"The protection spell will keep you safe," Emma said needlessly. "There's no way Zelena's getting through."

Belle smiled and nodded. Emma and Killian were halfway out the door when Roland jumped up from his game of Candy Land and raced across the loft to give Emma a hug.

"Bye!" he said.

"See ya later, cutie," she said, and she couldn't resist planting a kiss atop his dark curls.

"Bye, baby," Roland said, and he kissed Emma's stomach tenderly. Emma almost melted. The cheery smile, the kiss on her belly...it reminded her of Ian in the future, kissing her stomach while she's pregnant with Jackie.

"No hug for me, lad?" Killian teased.

"Bye, Uncle Killy!" Roland said, and hugged Killian around the legs.

"Uncle _Killy_?" Killian choked. Roland just giggled up at him, and then ran back to rejoin Pinocchio.

Emma ushered Killian through the door, still muttering, " _Uncle Killy_ ," to himself and shaking his head. They returned to the car, where Henry and Ian were fast asleep in the backseat.

Killian narrowed his eyes at the two boys. "I bet one of them put Roland up to this," he said.

"Those two? No way. They're _angels_ ; they would _never_ ," Emma said, getting into the driver's seat.

"There's nothing amusing about this, Swan," Killian said stiffly. In spite of his obvious irritation, he closed the passenger side door quietly behind him so as not to wake Henry and Ian.

Emma smiled softly at him.

"What?" he asked warily.

"You're a really good father, Killian."

His eyes went wide and he looked away quickly, cheeks pink. "Thank you," he mumbled. He slid his hook arm toward her and she rested her hand on his brace.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," she said, and was rewarded with one of Killian's cutest expressions: puzzlement.

-

Emma's parents, Regina, Robin, and the Merry Men were already waiting at the farm. Will Scarlet was also there, surprising Emma but not Killian.

"It looks like we're still waiting on the dwarves," Emma said, peering around. She turned to look into the back seat. Henry and Ian were once again awake, wearing sleepy expressions beneath tousled hair. "You guys stay here, okay? Stay warm until we're ready to go."

"Sounds amazing," Henry said, rubbing his eyes.

"Mmm," Ian agreed, staring blearily out the car window at the mist blanketing the farm.

It was bitterly cold outside, with low visibility due to the fog. It reminded her of another morning spent searching the same place, a year ago. Her and Killian hadn't been together then -- Emma hadn't been able to admit her feelings yet, not to herself, not to Killian. And now...Emma looked over at her pirate. Dressed in all black, he cut an imposing figure against the white haze. His hair was short again, which heightened the impression of sharp edges one had when gazing upon him. When his eyes met hers, she saw the steely glint there, the promise of violence, but she also saw his love for her. It enveloped her like a warm blanket, made her feel safe.

Killian reached for her hand, and she threaded her fingers through his.

"All set?" David asked as she and Killian approached the group. Emma knew he was really asking if she was okay.

"Yep," she said. "All set."

Everyone stood in a loose circle, and when Emma and Killian joined them they saw that they were gathered around a splatter of blood on the snow. It was Ian's blood. The trail of red ran from the small pool at their feet towards where the barn loomed in the distance, like a giant grey nightmare emerging from the fog. Her stomach turned at the sight. Being at the farm, seeing the blood on the snow and seeing the barn...it made it all _real_ again. She pulled her hand from Killian's and took a few steps away, towards the trees. She stared at the dark line they formed on the horizon, taking deep, steadying breaths.

She felt lightheaded. She closed her eyes --

And saw Mordred lunging at her.

_The baby!_

She saw Ian, jumping in the way, stopping Mordred, saving her. She saw his hand, gushing blood. She saw her own blood, streaming down her legs, and Zelena holding a shrieking infant, also coated in blood.

_Ian!_

_Wait --_

A hand gripped her arm hard. She jolted back to herself.

"Emma," said a quiet voice in her ear. "What is it, love?"

She blinked up at Killian.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Your hand's shaking," he said.

"It's nothing. I'm just... remembering," she said. That last image she'd scene...it was the same thing she'd seen last night after her shower.

Killian's eyes searched hers, but before he could press her further, there was a grating crunch and then the piercing screech of bad brakes as a van pulled up. The dwarves piled out, all of them grumbling and looking haggard.

"Nice of you to show up," Regina said acidly.

"Hey, lady -- "

" _Leroy_ ," Mary Margaret warned. "Now is not the time."

"Late night?" Killian asked, eyebrows raised.

"Something like that," Leroy growled evasively. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get moving. We're gonna freeze to death if we all just stand here."

Regina made a sound in her throat like a suppressed scream.

"I'm gonna get the boys," Emma said quickly, and booked it back to the car before she had to watch Regina make the seven dwarves into six.

"I'll help you," Killian said, and followed. Emma knew he wanted to put her to the question again, so she pretended she didn't know he was right behind her and kept her eyes trained forward. She got to the car and knocked on the window before Killian could catch up and stop her.

" _Emma_ ," she heard him growl, but she ignored him.

"You guys ready?" she asked loudly as Ian and Henry staggered out of the backseat.

"Yea. Who are we g-going with?" Ian asked, shivering as the cold hit him.

There were footsteps on the snow, and then David answered. "You guys are going to search the farmhouse with me. We're going to try and find something we can use for a locator spell."

" _What_?" Ian practically shouted. "That's basically like guarding the car!"

He turned outraged eyes on Emma and Killian.

"Whoa, kid, take it easy. You just got out of the hospital yesterday. One step at a time, okay?"

"I'm _fine_ ," he said through gritted teeth. Henry elbowed him, but Ian feigned ignorance and continued to glare.

Killian met his angry stare calmly. "If you don't collapse from exhaustion today, perhaps tomorrow you can search the woods with your mother and I," he said.

Ian opened his mouth, clearly about to continue arguing, but then Killian said, "If you'd rather, you could babysit the children with Belle and Marco at the loft."

Ian's teeth clicked together audibly as he snapped his mouth shut.

"Do you have the protection spell I gave you?" he ground out.

"Aye," Killian said. He held out his arm and used his hook to pull up his jacket sleeve, revealing Ian's hospital bracelet on his wrist.

"Fine. Then I'll stay with grandpa," Ian said, and stomped away towards the farmhouse. Henry looked torn, uncertain whether to follow or not.

"I can't wait until Neal's a teenager," David said, grinning brightly at Emma and Killian. Then he slung his arm around Henry's shoulder and they started after Ian.

-

"I feel bad," Emma admitted to Killian later, as they walked through the woods. They were heading north, moving slowly and carefully over the frozen snow, looking for footprints or broken branches or anything else indicating the recent passage of a witch and her teenage bodyguard.

"About Ian?" Killian asked. They walked close together, which probably wasn't ideal for a search, but neither of them wanted to be far from the other -- and even if Emma didn't want to be right next to Killian she doubted he would have let her stray from his side. He kept throwing her worried glances. Every time he did, Emma felt the weight of her secret heavy upon her shoulders.

But she kept her mouth shut. She still wasn't sure if what she kept seeing was merely something her imagination conjured as a result of her exhaustion and her fear, or if it was _something else_.

"Yea, about Ian," she said.

"He'll be alright, Swan. His anger will pass, and he'll see the wisdom in our decision."

Emma was silent, so he added, "We were right to have him stay behind. He's not ready for a full day of scouring the woods. He needs as much rest as we can make him get."

"Yea," Emma said in agreement. "It still hurts seeing him so angry with us."

Killian chuckled. "I know."

They traded little touches between them as they walked, for comfort and reassurance, on the arms and back, and once on her rear, to which she responded by smacking Killian's hand away. The woods were peaceful, and it was easy for Emma to forget the images that had haunted her at the barn.

"Hey, you're wearing your rings again," Emma said, noticing for the first time.

"Aye," Killian replied, and glanced at his hand.

Emma frowned. "Are you afraid of what you'll do to Zelena if you don't wear your reminders?"

"Not exactly," he said slowly. "I know I'm not that man anymore. I'm not a murderer."

"So...what are the rings for?" she asked, confused.

He was silent. Emma stopped him and put both of her hands on his chest, over his heart.

"Hey," she said softly. "You can tell me."

Part of her squirmed guiltily: she was asking Killian for his honestly when she herself was keeping a secret from him.

Killian took a deep breath and slipped his arms around her waist. "Knowing I _won't_ murder Zelena doesn't mean I don't _want_ to. I don't need the rings to stay on my path, but...they help quiet the angry voice inside my head," he said, and gave her a ghost of a smile.

"It's okay to be angry," she told him. "I'm angry too. Zelena's _evil_. She's hurt our friends and our family. Mordred too. He hurt _our_ _son_."

Killian's arms tightened around her.

"We can be angry and still do the right thing," she said.

He ducked his head. "There's something else."

"What?"

"A right hook to the face hurts a lot more when the person punching you is wearing rings."

Emma snorted.

"I owe Mordred _at least_ that much for what he did to Ian."

-

By the afternoon, the only tracks either of them had spied were animal.

Finally, Emma halted. Killian walked ahead a few steps before noticing she wasn't at his side, and turned to look at her questioningly.

"Emma, what is it?"

"I need to eat something," she said. She'd devoured the baggie of crackers from her mom hours ago and she was _starving_.

Killian grinned hugely. "I'm happy to hear it, love," he said. He walked back to her and pulled the brown paper bag with 'Emma & Killian' written on it from inside his jacket. Mary Margaret had packed them four turkey sandwiches, more crackers, grapes, and a bag of trail mix.

"Any rum in there?" she teased.

"No need, Swan, I brought my own," Killian said, and plucked his flask from his pocket. Emma eyed it longingly. She wished she could have a sip. The extra warmth would have been nice.

They ate standing, and they ate quickly. The cold air nipped at her gloveless hands and fingers. She couldn't understand how Killian wasn't bothered by it, but then she guessed centuries of freezing ocean spray had likely hardened him to the cold.

Emma felt her energy returning. They saved two sandwiches and the trail mix, just in case. Killian stuffed the bag back inside his jacket, took a brief swig from his flask, then tucked that away too.

"Ready?" Emma asked. They still had a lot of ground to try to cover before it got dark. They probably had a good two hours ahead of them before they needed to start heading back to the farm.

Killian suddenly looked embarrassed. "I apologize, love, but I need to, erm, relieve myself."

"Hm? Oh. Right. I'll wait here."

Killian picked a convenient clump of bushes and stood next to it with his back politely facing her. Emma wondered why _she_ didn't have to pee -- being pregnant and all -- and then realized she'd only had two sips of water to drink after vomiting, so she was probably dehydrated. She'd left the water bottle in the car, but that was miles away. She wondered how close something had to be to conjure it...

A gasp and some swearing from Killian drew her attention.

"Don't let anything important freeze off," she called, making him laugh. The sound of his laughter broke the hush of the woods pleasantly. She was about to suggest he try writing his name in the snow, knowing it would draw another laugh from him, but a vision took her -- and this time she was _certain_ what she was seeing was a vision.

She was in the barn, blood streaming down her legs. Her hands were stained with it. She held them out in front of her, empty where moments before they had held her baby. They shook uncontrollably. Zelena stood before her, newborn Ian screaming in her arms while she laughed. Emma fell to her knees.

" _Give him back_ ," she said.

" _How does it feel_?" Zelena shrieked. " _How does it feel to have your child ripped from you? You took my baby from me, and now you'll watch as yours dies_!"

"NO!" she shouted. She didn't know whether it was in the vision or out loud.

"Emma! Emma, what's wrong?"

Killian was shaking her. She was on her knees in the snow, trembling hands clutched to her chest. Killian was crouched on the ground next to her.

"Emma!" he said again.

She looked at him helplessly. "I saw..."

She paused, hesitating, and in the momentary silence she heard a twig snap somewhere nearby.

" _You saw what_?"

"Killian, shhh!" she hissed, and slammed her hand against his mouth, silencing him.

Ahead of them, perhaps fifty feet away, was a figure moving stealthily through the trees. He was stooped low, just his forehead and mop of dark hair visible above the bushes, but Emma knew it was Mordred. It was a miracle he hadn't heard or seen them yet.

"We've got him," Emma breathed. Her mind raced. Her and Killian were completely out in the open. If Mordred glanced sideways he'd see them. Any movement or noise might draw his attention and expose them.

"Let's follow him, Swan," Killian whispered. Emma nodded. If they were extremely careful they could trail Mordred back to wherever he and Zelena were holed up.

As if on cue, one of their cell phones chimed loudly, filling the woods with the sound of Robert Palmer singing "Addicted to Love".

"Killian!"Emma hissed urgently. "Turn it off!"

"That's not me, love!" he said quickly, hand scrabbling in his jacket.

"It's not me eith -- _shit_ , it is!" She forgot Ian had been playing with her phone, changing the ringtones and the wallpaper and who knew what else. She fumbled her phone from her pocket, and stared at the screen. " _It says 'Killian' is calling me_!"

Killian held up his empty hand. "I don't even have my phone! I don't where it -- " He squeezed his eyes shut. "Ian. Ian must have taken it. Ian's calling us."

 _Ian_.

Emma rejected the call -- they'd deal with him later -- and once again the woods were quiet. Cautiously, they both turned their heads and saw Mordred, still fifty feet away, facing them. Even at a distance Emma saw his eyes were locked onto them, narrowed in fury.

" _Fuck_. He saw us," she said.

"What do you want to do?" Killian asked hurriedly. One of Mordred's arms -- the one attached to the shoulder Killian had injured -- was in a sling, and he looked to be favoring it. If they were lucky, it might slow him down in a chase, but they had to act fast.

Suddenly, Mordred was off and running, headed away from them, deeper into the woods.

"Get him!" she cried, scrambling to her feet.

"Emma, you can't run. You're preg -- "

But she was already racing after Mordred. It felt strange, running with the added weight and roundness of her belly, but she just pressed one hand to her stomach and kept sprinting. She jumped over logs and darted around bushes, pushing away the thought of what sort of damage a hard fall might do. She desperately wanted to get to Zelena. If they could capture her, maybe she could stop what she'd seen in her vision from coming true.

She could hear Killian running at her shoulder. She knew he could surpass her easily, that he was keeping pace with her in case she stumbled, but that only made her work her legs harder. They were catching up: Mordred was closer than he had been when they started chasing him. She could see him clutching his shoulder as he ran. Emma took one big gulp of air and forced herself to go faster.

They were nearly there. They almost had him...

Two enormous green fireballs materialized from thin air and hurtled towards them. Emma skidded to a halt and threw her hands up, deflecting Zelena's magic to the side easily. On her left, the second one exploded against a wall of white light, showering both her and Killian with harmless green sparks. They held still, but no more attacks came.

Killian, one arm held in front of him defensively, stared at the bracelet on his wrist, then looked to Emma. This time, he grinned and said, "That's _your_ son, Swan," aloud. Emma huffed a little laugh, then they turned in unison and jogged towards the place where the fireballs had originated from.

Mordred was gone, disappeared, and all that was left behind was what had clearly been a makeshift camp, hastily abandoned. The remnants of a fire smoldered beneath a pile of dirt, and there were two impressions in the snow, showing where two people had slept. Beside one of the impressions was a tin cup lying on its side, purple contents spilling out onto the ground.

"They got away," Emma said.

"The fireballs were a distraction," Killian growled. He swore loudly and kicked the tin cup across the camp and into the trees.

Emma scrubbed at her face with her hands. "They could be _anywhere_ ," she said through her fingers.

"Likely not anywhere close. We need to alert the others; let them know what they should be on the lookout for."

"Here." Emma tossed her phone to Killian. "Call Ian back and tell him thanks for depriving us of a heroic capture."

Killian rolled that eyes. "You don't _really_ want me to say that to the boy, Swan. It's not his fault."

"Yea, I know. Call my mom and Regina. Then call Ian and see what he wanted."

While Killian made the phone calls, Emma shuffled through the camp. There was a line drawn in the snow, encasing the entire camp in a circle.

Emma pointed to it and said, "Zelena must have had the camp hidden with magic."

"Aye," Killian agreed, then he passed the information along to whomever he was speaking with on the phone. He removed the phone from his ear, tapped at the screen, and then replaced it. After a moment, he said, "Hello, lad."

Emma waited until Killian had finished his conversation with Ian and tucked the phone away in his jeans before asking, "What's up?"

"Ian said they couldn't find anything at the farmhouse. Then I talked to David and he told me Ian's about to keel over from exhaustion, so he's taking the boys back to the loft."

Emma nodded. "Good. They can rest. They'll be safe."

Killian was silent for a moment, and then he asked, "What happened earlier, love?"

"What?"

"You were on the ground," he said. "You looked scared out of your mind and you were _shaking_."

His eyes, a deep, crystal blue in the pale light, were pleading with her. She looked away quickly.

"Emma, please. Whatever it was, don't hide it from me. You were shaking at the farm earlier, as well."

Her hands were trembling again. She stuffed them in her coat pockets, but Killian had seen.

"Emma," he said, and this time there was a hard edge to his voice.

" _I think I had a vision_." She said it in a rush, before she lost her nerve.

"A vision?" He shook his head and blinked at her in confusion.

"Yea."

"What did you see?"

"I saw Zelena taking our baby."

His eyebrows drew down in a scowl and his jaw clenched. "No," he said fiercely. "She's not going to take the babe. I won't let her."

He took her hand roughly and pulled her into his arms. She molded herself to him, burying her face against his shoulder.

"What else did you see, love? You can tell me," he said, repeating her words from earlier.

Her hands gripped his jacket lapels, and they were shaking again. "We were in the barn," she said. "There was blood everywhere -- I think the baby had just been born. And she had him. She had Ian."

"That won't happen," he said firmly, arms like a vise around her. "Your parents and I...we're going to protect you."

"What if we can't stop her?"

"We _will_. We defeated her once before, and we'll do it again."

Emma clung to him.

"I can't lose him, Killian. I can't lose the baby. I can't lose Ian."

"We're not going to. Nothing's going to take him away from us."

"Promise?" she asked, knowing it was foolish but needing to hear it anyway.

"Emma, I promise."

-

Eventually they began making their way back to the farmhouse. Emma held his hook as they walked, leaving his hand free to grab his cutlass --retrieved from the barn earlier -- if he needed to.

"Emma, love," he said after a while, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Hm?"

"Next time you're about to chase after a villain through the woods...don't."

"I'm sorry if I scared you," she said quietly. "I know I should be careful. I just reacted. I didn't want Mordred to get away. I thought if we caught him we could catch Zelena and stop the vision I saw from coming true."

"I know. I just...I can't lose _you_ either, Emma," he said, and she heard the raw emotion in his voice. He had just seen her almost die by Mordred's hand, and now he had just watched her run right back into danger.

She moved her hand from his hook to his brace and squeezed his wrist, knowing he would feel the pressure there. "You won't," she said.

"So, it's settled? I'll do all the chasing, and you can do all the long-distance blasting-with-magic?"

Emma chuckled. "We'll see."

-

They were back at the loft. Belle and Marco had left, and Regina and Robin had taken Roland and Rowan home. Henry was at the kitchen table with Mary Margaret and Neal. David had gone to pick up their dinner from Granny's, as no one had the energy to cook. Ian was sleeping in Emma's old bed upstairs, and Emma was on the couch in the living room area with Killian, trying not to fall asleep herself.

 

Killian's ears -- the strange, almost pointed ears that he shared with their son -- were pink from the cold. Emma pressed her hand to the one closest to her.

"Mmm," Killian hummed, and leaned into her hand.

"Feel good?" she asked.

"Yes. Your skin's warm."

She remembered how Ian had warmed the bench by the docks on Christmas Eve, and tried to replicate it, only on Killian's ear.

"Emma, love, whatever you're doing...it's amazing."

"Yea?"

" _Yes_."

She lifted her other hand to his other ear.

"I learned this one from Ian," she said.

"Your magic's completely back to normal, then?" he asked slurrily, revealing just how relaxed he was. "I saw you handle that fireball."

"It is," she said.

"And the baby's magic?"

Emma closed her eyes, conjured up an image for how her magic _felt_. She pictured her magic as a white flame burning at her very center. Threads of the same fire ran through her body, like a circulatory system but for magic. Just below her center was a smaller flame -- Ian's. The same fine white threads spread through his tiny form, but some of the threads intertwined with hers.

"It feels like we're sharing magic, right now," she said, opening her eyes again to find Killian looking at her. "Like our magic is connected. I feel like I could draw from his magic if I wanted to...but he's so tiny, I'd have to be careful."

Killian was smiling, the kind of smile that made the skin around his eyes crinkle.

"What?" she asked.

"You and the baby sharing magic...it's cute, love. I know you've been worried about what being a mother again will be like...but you and the baby are already so connected to each other."

Emma felt her cheeks heat up. "And what about _your_ little connection?"

"Hm?"

"You know, that thing where you and Ian look at each other and read each others' minds or something?"

Killian grinned, but he shrugged. "The boy's easy to read, Swan."

"Like I was when you first met me?" she teased.

"An open book," he said.

"Oh, yea? What am I thinking right now?"

"You're thinking about the grilled cheese and onion rings currently making their way to the loft."

"Mm, correct," Emma said, and they shared a laugh.

Emma trailed her fingers from Killian's ear to the nape of his neck and threaded her fingers through the short hair there. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, love."

"That thing you said last night, about giving Zelena a chance to have a relationship with Rowan in the future..."

"I was thinking...I was thinking maybe parenthood and the love of a child could change Zelena. Not for Zelena's sake -- I don't care about her. But for Rowan."

Emma nodded. She knew he was thinking about how fatherhood had already changed him. "I was really proud of you, when you said it."

"Thank you, love," he said, smiling that soft smile Emma loved to see.

"If...if what I saw comes true..." She threw a wary glance at the kitchen. They hadn't told anyone about Emma's visions. "If she takes Ian from us...I won't be able to forgive her."

"Me either," he said, and his voice was iron. "If she takes our son from us, if she...if she _hurts_ him...there's no coming back from that for her."

Emma nodded, looked away, trying not to contemplate the possibility. She _had_ to believe that what she saw wouldn't come true. 

"What about Gold?" she said suddenly.

"What about him?" Killian asked quickly, body tensing.

"Do you think Gold could change for his kids? If, you know, he was here."

"He already did change for them," he said, and she felt the tension leave him. "He gave up his life for theirs, and for Belle's. I don't -- I'll always despise the crocodile, Swan, but I also have to respect him for what he did in the end. He made the right decision. Unfortunately for him, it came too late."

"Do you think he'll ever come back?"

Killian was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Yes."

"Really?" Emma felt her eyebrows fly nearly into her hairline.

"Yes. He's a father, Swan. He created the Dark Curse in order to be reunited with Baelfire, who knows what he'll eventually do to get back to Belle and the twins. If it were me...I'd do the same." He fixed her with piercing eyes. "I'd never stop fighting until I got back to you and Ian and Henry."

Emma had that same feeling from before, of Killian's love enveloping her, warming her and keeping her safe. She leaned in and kissed him, lips lingering longingly on his. 

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Emma and Killian broke apart to find David had returned.

"Dinner's here," he said, glaring.

-

They spent the night at the loft, curled up together on Henry's old twin bed while Ian slept peacefully not five feet from them. Sometime in the middle of the night, Emma was awoken by the sound of a baby crying, and she had a moment of pure panic where she thought it was baby Ian, and Zelena was here to take him, but then Killian was awake, hand on her arm, holding her steady.

"It's just your brother, Swan. It's just Neal."

Emma heard her mother's voice, whispering softly to Neal, soothing him, and she relaxed. She pressed into Killian, loving the solid feeling of him against her back, arm along her waist, feet tangled with hers. He was placing gentle kisses behind her ear.

"It's alright," he muttered. "You're safe. The baby's safe."

She nodded and pulled his hand onto her belly. He spread his fingers, covering as much of it as he could.

On the bed across from them, Ian rolled over and mumbled, nearly incoherently, " _Goddamn sharks_."

Killian's laugh was a rumble in his chest.

-

The next day, everyone in the search parties wore a protection spell made by either Emma or Ian. Henry's was his scarf, which amused Ian for some reason. Thinking it was probably impossible to drag both boys along on a search -- and knowing her and Killian were the only ones who'd be able to handle Ian if he did some stupid like try to chase after Zelena -- Emma sent Henry with Regina and brought Ian with them.

Mordred was spotted twice, both times at a distance, and both times he disappeared before anyone could catch up to him. The first encounter took place to the north, the second to the southwest.

"This is good," Regina said later. The sun was setting and they had regrouped at the farm.

"How is this good?" Emma asked. "This is the _third_ time we couldn't get this kid."

"This is _good_ because Zelena is clearly still recovering from opening the time portal, otherwise they wouldn't be camping in the woods and Mordred wouldn't be standing guard. Every time we make her move their camp we make her use magic, and that slows her recovery."

"Oh," Emma said, realization sinking in.

"If we keep pushing them, we might catch up to them before Zelena's back to full health," Killian said.

"Exactly," Regina answered.

"Then that's what we'll do," David said. "Can we organize some night patrols -- not to engage, just to show our presence? If we make enough noise, we can keep them on their toes, keep them from getting any rest."

"Good idea," Emma said.

"We don't even need real people," Regina added. "We could just enchant some torches to float around the woods. Mordred will see them from a distance and move the camp before the torches get close enough for him to realize there isn't actually anyone carrying them."

"Can we do that without burning down the woods?" Mary Margaret asked skeptically.

Ian shrugged. "We can probably light the torches with a fire that gives off light but doesn't actually burn."

"Not... _that_ fire, right lad?" Killian said.

"No, dad, not _that fire_ ," Ian retorted, and Emma wondered what they were talking about. She looked at Killian curiously, but he gave a quick shake of his head: _later_.

-

On Wednesday, Emma finally took a day off to rest and to spend some quiet time with Killian and Ian. Emma was utterly exhausted, so she let her parents and Killian convince her that taking a day off now would help her regain her energy to continue the search on Thursday. The others were still out patrolling, and Emma and Killian had their phones near at hand, in case something came up. Henry was back at school. They had put Ian back in school on Monday as well (his suspension was technically over), only to stumble across him a few hours later in the woods. Emma thought Killian would explode from anger the moment he laid eyes on him, but he merely grabbed the boy by his jacket, glowered at him for a minute, and then pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

They watched The Mummy and The Mummy Returns on Netflix, and then Emma fell asleep. While she slept she dreamt, as she did all the time now, of her vision. She wasn't sure how long she napped -- how long she was plagued by the image of Zelena with her baby -- but when she woke up the room was dark and she was alone.

She could hear Killian and Ian's voices coming from the kitchen, so she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and crept from the den. They were laughing -- Emma loved hearing them laugh together. Killian was different with Ian than he was with anyone else. He sounded more carefree, less ravaged by his past. Ian's light brought out Killian's light and made it glow brightly.

Emma peeked into the kitchen. They were at the kitchen table, playing some card game and using pretzels as gambling chips. Ian was sitting cross-legged on his chair with a bowl of red Jell-O in his lap. He looked nearly back to normal: the bruises on his face had faded and the cut on his lip had mostly healed. The wicked twinkle in his eye had returned, as had his smirk.

Neither of them noticed her, so she hung in the doorway, listening.

"Can I get a tattoo?" Ian asked.

"Definitely not," Killian said.

"Why not? _You_ have a tattoo. _Mom_ has a tattoo."

"We're adults."

" _Uncle Robin_ has a tattoo."

"That doesn't aid your argument, lad. Robin's an adult as well."

"Can I pierce my ear?"

"No," Killian answered, then he amended, "Maybe when you're older."

"Can I get a peg leg?"

"No," Killian said. "And that's absurd, by the way."

Ian shrugged. "Can I have your hook?"

"What? No."

"Can I have _a_ hook?"

Emma could tell by the stiff set of Killian's shoulders that he was glaring. "It's a little too soon to joke about the loss of a hand, lad. You truly did nearly lose _yours_."

"Can I pierce my ear?"

Killian sighed. "You already asked that one."

"Yea, I was hoping you might have changed your mind after I asked for a hook."

Killian didn't answer.

"Ok, how about this: can I try wearing eyeliner?"

Killian was silent for a moment, before saying, "Sure."

Emma couldn't help the laughter that burst from her. Killian and Ian whipped around.

"How long have you been standing there?" Killian asked.

"Long enough," Emma said. "Who's winning?"

"The boy is."

"Because you're _letting_ me win," Ian said.

"I am?"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Dad, _c'mon_. You think we haven't played poker before? I know when I'm being scammed."

Killian smirked and threw his hand of cards onto the table. Ian groaned when he saw them, and pushed the pot of pretzels in the middle towards his dad.

"You guys hungry?" Emma asked, feeling a familiar empty ache in her stomach. She felt as if her appetite grew exponentially with each passing day. "Or are we having pretzels for dinner?"

"Yes!" Ian said. "I'm _starving_. Can we order a pizza?"

"You just ate nearly an entire package of that gelatin stuff," Killian said.

"Yea, but I'm still hungry."

"I think you're hitting a growing phase," Emma said.

" _Great_. Henry's old clothes barely fit me as it is. I feel like Ron Weasley."

Emma laughed.

Killian held up a finger and said proudly, "I actually understand that reference."

"How about we finally get that pizza we were supposed to order last Thursday?" Emma suggested.

"Sounds fantastic, love," Killian said, and he started scraping the pretzels off the table and back into the bag.

Ian left to use the bathroom. Emma stood behind Killian's chair and hugged him, wrapping him up in the blanket with her. His hand slipped up to rest over hers, thumb stroking back and forth over her skin soothingly.

"Did you dream?" he asked.

"Yea."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," she said, and turned her head to kiss his cheek. "I just want to enjoy the rest of our night off together."

"As my lady wishes," he said, and turned his head to capture her lips with his.

Ian returned, made a noise like a dying whale, then spun on his heel and left again.

-

_Five years in the future_

Emma woke up afraid. She sat up in bed, panting heavily and streaming sweat.

"Emma?" asked a groggy voice beside her. Killian, a light sleeper, was awake too. "Emma, what is it?"

"I had that dream again," she said. She rested her hand protectively on her belly, over the small, round swell of her and Killian's growing child.

Killian placed his hand over hers. He didn't need to asked _which_ dream: ever since they'd found out she was pregnant again, she'd started having that old nightmare where Zelena ripped her newborn son from her the moment he was born and killed him in front of her.

"Go see him," Killian said. "I'll make you some hot chocolate."

She slid from bed wordlessly and went quickly from their bedroom and into Ian's, right next door. It was the same room he'd slept in since he was born, but soon it would be a nursery again and he would be down the hall in Henry's old room.

Ian, as usual, was buried beneath a mound of blankets, just his eyes and his head of unruly blonde hair visible. Emma sat on the edge of the bed as carefully as she could and just looked at him. She couldn't see his pajamas, but she knew he was wearing the dark blue ones with the constellations drawn on them, because Killian had gotten him into stargazing. They'd bought him a telescope for Christmas a few months ago, and they had been out on the Jolly Roger almost every night since looking at the sky, despite the winter chill that clung to Storybrooke.

She heard Killian's soft footsteps coming up the stairs and into the room. He sat next to her and pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into her hands. It was overflowing with whipped cream and cinnamon.

"Thanks," she said.

"Of course, love." He slipped an arm around her and kissed her cheek.

Ian's eyes cracked open.

"Is it time to wake up?" he mumbled blearily.

"Hey, babe," she said. "No, it's still nighttime. Go back to sleep."

"Ok," he said, and snuggled closer. He put his head in her lap and rested his cheek against her belly. He was already in love with his little brother or sister, and Emma and Killian both knew he was going to be _the best_ big brother. Emma ran her fingers through his hair. It was still the same light shade it had been since he was born. It had been wavy when he was younger, but he had lost the curls permanently with his first haircut -- a loss Killian still mourned. Emma wondered what the next one would look like: would they have light hair again? Or would it be dark, like Killian's? Blue eyes, or her greenish ones? Would they have freckles? Would they need glasses, like she had? The possibilities were both overwhelming and exciting.

Suddenly, Ian giggled. "I can hear her."

It took Emma a moment to realize he was talking about the baby.

" _Her_?" she asked in surprise.

"Mmhm."

"What's she saying?" Killian asked, grinning.

"She likes hot chocolate," Ian said.

"Definitely one of us, then," Killian said, and he nuzzled Emma's neck, pressing kisses there.

They stayed with Ian until he'd fallen back asleep. Killian helped ease him off her lap and back beneath his blankets. Emma glanced at the clock, then out the window. It was well after midnight, and it was pitch black outside, but she could still see clearly the bare winter trees and the last remnants of this season's snow.

She bent and pressed a kiss to Ian's hair, and whispered, "Happy birthday," then her and Killian returned to their own bed.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the HUGE delay. Work has been crazy busy and stressful, and then I got into my first car accident, and everything's just been a mess. I feel like this chapter is a bit of a mess as well, so I apologize for that, too.

It was Thursday. Zelena had been in Storybrooke for a week and no one had come closer to capturing her and Mordred than Emma and Killian had that first time. For days they scoured the woods, until Killian was certain he'd seen every tree, rock, and patch of dirt in the entire forest. Mostly their time was spent in complete monotony, punctuated only by snack or rest breaks, but occasionally they managed to stumble upon the boy Mordred. Every encounter, however, ended the same: green fireballs, an abandoned campsite, and a liberal amount of swearing from both Emma and Ian.

"We're never going to catch them," Emma growled as they trudged through the quickly darkening woods back towards the farm.

Killian didn't answer. He knew better than to try arguing, _especially_ when the only thing that kept Emma from pushing herself to her limits in their pursuit of Zelena was his request to the contrary. She might be annoyed with him right now, but she was _safe_.

"At least we're getting a good workout though," Ian said cheerfully. "My calves feel like they're made outta steel."

Emma snorted. "Alright, kid..." she said, throwing Ian a sidelong look. Even in the dim light Killian saw the amusement dancing in her eyes. Her shoulders relaxed, and her footfalls became less murderous.

Killian caught Ian's eye and winked. Ian grinned in response. The boy was nothing if not full of surprises. Killian saw the fire in him, a fire he knew all too well as it was the same fire _he_ had carried around inside him as a lad. He knew any attempt to keep the boy out of the fight would only send him searching for it on his own -- and he had, the one day they tried to get him to go back to school. After that, Killian had kept him close in order to keep an eye on him, expecting at any moment to have to hold him down for his own good. But that moment never came. Instead, Ian stuck to them like a barnacle to a whale. 

When they reached the edge of the trees they saw that the others were already waiting for them within the shelter of the farmhouse: there was a faint glow radiating from the windows indicating someone had lit the old gas lamps inside. Emma, Killian, and Ian followed that light like a beacon across the dark field.

David met them at the door, wearing an anxious frown.

"Come on in and warm up," he said. "We were beginning to worry something had happened."

"Our apologies, mate," Killian said, ushering Emma and Ian through the door ahead of him. "We lost track of time and walked a little farther than we intended."

The truth was that _someone_ had stubbornly insisted that they couldn't leave until either they ran into Mordred or they received a text informing them that someone else had. In the end, neither thing happened and they'd been forced to turn back; cold, bone-weary, and disappointed.

"Where are the dwarves?" Killian asked, edging past David into the hallway. "Have they disappeared again?"

"Um, yea, guess so," David answered.

"Where do they keep running off to?"

"No idea," David lied unconvincingly. Killian let it go. If David wanted to keep secrets, Killian couldn't stop him.

Although the farmhouse didn't have a working furnace or electricity, it was still warmer than outside. They gathered in the kitchen, their shivers slowly dying out as the heat from the house penetrated their cold outer layers. Mary Margaret brought a stack of blankets over and handed them out. Killian took the one she offered but he settled it over Emma's shoulders instead. He wasn't much bothered by the cold, but he knew she was sensitive to it. Plus, she had the baby to keep warm.

"No one saw Mordred today?" Emma asked, teeth chattering.

Regina, Robin, Mary Margaret, and David all shook their heads.

"Not a good day then," Killian said.

"No," David agreed.

"Maybe we should formulate a Plan B for what we're going to do when Zelena returns to her normal unpleasant but very powerful self," Regina said. "As that seems to be where this is headed."

"Let's cross that bridge when we get to it," Killian said, glancing at Emma. Her face was calm and composed, but Killian knew it for a mask. His insides squirmed uneasily. Forming another plan was a logical next step at this point, but it also felt like admitting that their current plan was doomed to fail -- and failure _now_ brought them one step closer to the future Emma kept seeing in her visions.

"I'd say we're approaching the bridge with speed, pirate," Regina sneered.

"I think Killian's right," David said, stepping shoulder-to-shoulder with Killian. "Let's focus on the plan we _do_ have for now."

Before Regina could form a retort, Robin chimed in. "I agree," he said. "If we go out there thinking we have a fallback plan, it might affect how diligently we search. We have to behave as if this is our only option, because it's our _best_ option."

There were nods and murmurs of agreement all around. Ian was staring hard at the kitchen table, chewing his bottom lip. Killian wanted to hug the boy, hold him safe in his arms and tell him everything would turn out alright, but he couldn't -- he felt like he'd be lying. Again he felt guilty. So far he'd failed to return the boy to the future where he belonged. Killian wondered fleetingly if the future version of him and Emma to whom Ian belonged were out there somewhere, upset and disappointed.

"Well then, if we want our best option to work we need to get the torches set up," Regina said, breaking into Killian's thoughts.

"Right," Emma sighed, reluctantly shrugging off her blankets. Everyone gathered an armful of torches from where they were stored in the living room and carried them from the house. Outside, Emma, Ian, and Regina lit the torches one by one and then sent them floating away towards the trees. Killian watched them retreat until their light was swallowed by the gloom of the woods and the field was dark once more.

"Can we go get Henry now?" Ian asked. Henry, under combined pressure from both Emma and Regina, had grudgingly agreed to stay in school. Killian knew the arrangement chafed for everyone involved -- except perhaps Regina -- but, again, at least they knew Henry was safe.

"Yea, kid," Emma said, slinging one arm over his shoulder and steering him towards the car. "He's waiting for us at Granny's."

 "Perfect. I'm _starving_ ," he said, and Killian heard the boy's stomach give an audible gurgle.

"Grilled cheese and onion rings?" Emma asked.

"You read my mind," Ian answered.

"Great. I'll tell Henry to order for us. Should we eat at Granny's or at home?"

"Home," Ian said. "There's a hockey game on tonight."

Killian grinned. Hockey was growing on him. He enjoyed Ian's enthusiasm for the sport. "Is your favorite team playing? That red one? The, erm, the -- "

"The _Blackhawks_ , dad. And yea. They're playing the team Henry likes. The Rangers."

"You and Henry don't like the same team?" Killian asked, perplexed.

Ian shrugged. "He said he and mom cheered for them while they lived in New York. So that's _their_ team. Which means _you_ have to like the Blackhawks with me."

"What if I say I like the Rangers?" Killian teased.

"Then I'd be all alone," Ian said, frowning pitifully.

"Then I guess I have no choice," huffed Killian. "I can't let my son be alone."

"Nope. You're my dad. It's like your duty to make sure I'm never alone."

Killian wondered if the boy had any idea that the truth of his statement went well beyond hockey teams.

-

Killian and Emma found Henry sitting at Granny's counter, bent over his homework. Ian remained outside, chattering away to David and Robin about hockey, trying to get them into watching it as well.

"Hey, kid," Emma greeted, taking the stool next to Henry. "Did you order?"

Henry nodded wordlessly.

"How was school?" she asked.

"Fine."

Killian didn't miss the resentment in Henry's tone. He and Emma exchanged looks, then Killian leaned his elbow on the counter and said, "Ian informed me you boys are watching the hockey game tonight. Did you finish your homework? If you need help I can -- "

"No," Henry said. He closed his textbook with a snap and began stuffing his things into his backpack.

Suddenly, Ian burst through the door, shouting, "You gotta get out here and see this!"

Killian and Emma followed Ian outside to join him and the others on the sidewalk. At first, Killian wasn't sure what he was supposed to be seeing, but then he saw it: coming up the street towards them from the west, bobbing along in midair in neat rows like soldiers on the march, were the twenty torches they had sent into the woods half an hour earlier.

Everyone turned to Regina questioningly.

"Don't look at _me_. I didn't do this," she said.

"Zelena," David said in dismay. "She figured us out."

The torches reached Granny's and stopped. They hovered there as if awaiting orders, their only movement the minute quivering of their flames.

"Well," Killian said, "it seems our ruse didn't last nearly as long as we'd all hoped." He stepped forward to take one of the torches. "Our deception earned us a few nights, at least."

Right before he grasped the torch he heard Emma and Ian shout, "NO!" simultaneously, but it was too late. As soon as his fingers touched the torch the flame roared to life and reared five feet into the air. It twisted, taking the shape of a serpent, and then struck, coiling around his neck. Killian bellowed and tried to fling the torch away, but it was as if his hand was glued to it.

"Killian!" Emma shouted.

He clawed at the creature with his hook to no avail. It squeezed tighter, choking him and burning him all at once. He squeezed his eyes shut. The light from the flames was blinding. He couldn't breathe. He felt his skin blistering, smelled burning hair.

"Killian!" Emma's voice again.

Abruptly, the heat was gone. The torch shifted in his hand, changing from rough wood to smooth scales.

"Emma," he gasped, eyelids fluttering open. Emma was there with Ian. They were both frantically trying to pull the serpent from its stranglehold around his neck. Stars burst before his eyes at the same time the edges of his vision began to go dark. His knees buckled.

"Dad!" Ian was right next to him but he sounded a long way away.

Someone was drawing a warm, black curtain around Killian. He had nearly drowned twice in his life. This felt something like that. He closed his eyes again.

"DAD!"

"KILLIAN!"

White light flared against his eyelids, and the weight vanished from his shoulders. He both heard and felt the impact of something heavy hitting the pavement at his feet, and knew it was the snake. He took a deep shuddering breath that sent sharp pains through his chest that made it feel as if his lungs were filled with broken glass.

Slowly, he came to his senses. Emma and Ian stood before him, panting, wide-eyed and frightened. There was pressure on his chest: David had his arms wrapped around Killian from behind, supporting him. On the ground was the snake that had tried to strangle him, torn in half, crumbling to ash. Around him, all the torches had turned to flaming serpents. Robin and Mary Margaret were firing arrows at them, which proved useless. Regina blasted the torches with magic with only slightly more effect.

"Can you stand?" David asked, voice too loud in Killian's ear.

"Aye," Killian wheezed. He got his legs back underneath him and stumbled forward, drawing his cutlass with arms that felt as if they were made of lead.

"Are you okay?" Ian asked.

"That's twice you've saved my life now," Killian said. Speaking was painful. He felt as if he had gravel in his throat.

Ian smirked. "I'm pretty sure last time that was technically mom I saved -- LOOK OUT!"

Killian turned. David had struck one of the torches with his sword, only to have the serpent wrap itself around his arm. Ian jumped in, what looked like a cutlass made of white light appearing in his hand, and cut the serpent in half.

Killian shook himself and tightened his grip on his own cutlass. Before he could join the fray, however, Emma did. She swung her arm in a wide arc and white fire lashed out like a whip. Each torch it touched burst into the same white flames, dropped to the ground, and crumbled to ash. Within seconds the torches were reduced to a handful of scorch marks and piles of dust on the asphalt. The street seemed suddenly much darker. Everyone stood frozen, gaping at the remains of what had seconds before been a score of enormous flaming serpents.

Ian recovered first. " _Holy shit!"_  he said, whipping around to stare at Emma in amazement. "Mom, that was awesome! Henry, did you see that?"

He trotted over to join Henry back on the sidewalk. Emma smiled and shook her head, then turned to Killian.

"Let me take a look at your neck," she said. She took a step towards him and then doubled over, hand on her belly. Killian's first thought was that she'd had a vision, or was about to, but then she straightened and continued walking towards him as if nothing happened. He stood frozen, fighting the urge to run to her. He glanced at the others. No one look concerned, so they must not have seen. Regina and Robin were sifting through the remnants of the torches. Mary Margaret was peeling up the sleeve of David's jacket to check for burns beneath. Ian was talking to Henry, who was wearing a strange, closed-off expression. Killian wondered at it, but then Emma was there, and his eyes snapped to meet hers. She was clutching his jacket with one hand.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, resting his hand and his hook on her hips.

Her eyes were wide, but she looked more surprised than scared. "I think I overdid it with the magic a bit," she said. "I accidentally used some of the baby's."

She attempted a trembling smile, but Killian saw the worry lining her forehead.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" he asked urgently, voice rising in spite of himself.

She shook her head "No. It's okay. We're okay. It just..." she paused, took a deep breath. "It just felt weird. I need to get a feel for where my magic ends and the baby's begins."

He slipped his hand around to the small of her back and pulled her tighter against him. "Are you _certain_ you're both alright?" he asked.

"Yea," she said, more calmly. "It startled me a little, that's all."

She lifted both her hands to his neck, a determined frown on her face.

"Emma, you don't have to -- " he started, and pulled his head up and back.

"I've got it," she said firmly, and he stilled.

Killian felt her magic touch him like a soft caress, and then the sting disappeared. He placed his hand over one of hers, thumb stroking her knuckles.

"Thank you, love," he said.

"Of course," she replied, smiling.

He rested his forehead against hers and grinned. "What you just did with the torches...Emma, you were _brilliant_!"

"Thanks," she whispered. "You have to compliment the baby, too; that was partly him."

Killian ducked and pressed a kiss to her stomach. "You were amazing as well, little lad," he said, and tickled her belly button with one finger. Emma giggled.

Killian heard heels approaching, clicking menacingly on the pavement, and straightened to see Regina stalking towards them.

" _Now_ can we discuss a Plan B?" she said, glaring daggers at the pair of them.

Killian looked at Emma, saw her exhaustion, and said, "Later."

"There may not _be_ a 'later' -- "

"If Zelena was back to full strength she would have come herself instead of sending our own torches after us," Killian said. "We can discuss our next step _later_. Right now what we all need is rest."

"He's right," Mary Margaret said. "We're all tired. We all need to go home and spend some quiet time with our families."

Robin stepped up behind Regina. He ran the knuckles of one hand along her arm gently. "I for one would like to pick up the children and take them home."

"The _children_ are the reason we need a Plan B!" Regina said, frustration clear in her voice.

"I know," Robin said soothingly. "But we can't protect them if we drop dead from exhaustion. And I'm not going to let Zelena ruin bedtime. I know one little girl who needs a warm bubble bath and a snuggle, and one little boy who needs a snuggle and a bedtime story."

Regina visibly caved to Robin's words. Killian suppressed a grin.

"It's the little moments like those that remind us why we keep fighting," David added quietly, and, beside him, Mary Margaret nodded.

Killian looked over at Henry and Ian -- his boys. His nights with them and Emma is what he looked forward to most every day; it's what drove him.

"Let's go home," Emma said. Killian slipped an arm around her waist and they started down the sidewalk towards the bug. Ian joined them, bumping into Killian from the other side, and Killian put an arm around his shoulders.

 Suddenly, Emma turned back. "Henry, are you coming?"

Henry, hands stuffed in his pockets, shifted awkwardly on the sidewalk."No, I think I'm going to go home with my mom."

"Ok. See you tomorrow?"

"Yea. Sure," he said, then turned away.

Killian saw Ian open his mouth to speak, but whatever he had been about to say died on his lips, and he just stood watching Henry's retreating back sadly.

-

Ian was uncharacteristically silent while they ate. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't seem to notice that Emma and Killian were also silent, watching him, throwing each other worried glances.

After they'd eaten and cleaned up, Killian asked, "Shall we watch that hockey game?"

"I think I'm just going to go to bed," Ian mumbled, eyes downcast.

Killian checked the time. It was barely 8 o'clock. "Are you certain?"

"Yea," Ian said. He pushed his chair back from the table, stood up, and started for the stairs.

"Is everything okay?" Killian called, taking a few hesitant steps after him.

"Yea," Ian said again without stopping, then he was gone.

"Actually," Emma said wearily. "Bed sounds fantastic right now."

Killian couldn't help it; he smirked. "Bed? Or -- ?"

"Bed," Emma said firmly.

" _Fine_ ," Killian sighed. He followed her up the stairs, but stopped on the landing. The light was on in the bathroom and the door was open, and Killian heard running water and the unmistakable sound of teeth being brushed. "I'll join you in a moment, Swan."

Emma nodded knowingly and turned towards their bedroom.

Killian went to the bathroom and leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey," he said.

Ian grunted in response. He was wearing a pair of Henry's old pajamas, and even Killian could tell that he had outgrown them. The boy was _definitely_ taller than he had been two months ago. His son was growing into a man before his eyes, but the Killian that had raised Ian from a babe was missing it.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Killian asked gently.

Ian shook his head.

"Did something happen between you and Henry?" he pressed, recalling Henry's attitude in the diner and the strange expression on his face outside Granny's.

Ian didn't answer, just looked at him sideways.

"If there's anything you want to talk about, lad, you can talk to me," he said.

Ian leaned forward, spit out a mouthful of foam into the sink, then said "I know, dad," without meeting his eyes.

Killian suddenly felt helpless. The future version of him -- whoever he was -- should be there to guide Ian. Killian wasn't that man yet; he had a long way to go until he was.

"I know I'm not...I'm not the man you know thirteen years from now, but I'm still your father. I still want to help," he said, voice rough with the emotions rising in his chest.

"It's not that I don't think you're my dad, it' just...he's different than you are," Ian said quietly. He raised his eyes to Killian's. "But I see him in you."

"Is he a good man, your father?" Killian asked breathlessly.

A smile quirked the corners of Ian's lips as he said, "He's the best."

Killian's breath hitched.

"I'm really glad mom named me after you," Ian continued. "There's no one I'd rather try to live up to than you. Not even grandpa."

Killian felt as if he could drown in the happiness warming his entire body. He pulled Ian into a hug and rested his cheek on the boy's head. "You don't have to live up me, lad. You just have to be _you_. I want you to be the best man _you_ can be."

Ian nodded against his shoulder.

"Always remember that."

"I will."

"I love you, Ian," he said. "I've loved you since the moment I first knew you existed."

"I love you too, dad," Ian said, arms tightening around Killian.

-

Emma was in bed when he got to their bedroom. Her hair was fanned out on the pillows, looking a deep gold in the light from the lamp on the bedside table. Killian stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid under the covers. She shifted immediately, wriggling backwards into his arms so that he was spooning her, bodies flush from head to toe.

"I heard you guys," she said.

Killian chuckled. "Were you _eavesdropping_ , Swan?"

"Yes," she said, without shame.

"And?"

"And I may have cried a little when he said his dad was the best," she said. "And when you said you loved him from the moment you first knew he existed."

Killian nuzzled her neck. "It's true," he whispered against her skin. "I didn't think I could be a father, Emma. The thought terrified me. I knew I could never have a family of my own."

She started to protest, but he pressed a kiss to her lips. They parted for him, and he swirled his tongue inside to taste hers. He lost himself for a while in her kiss, absorbed in the feel of his lips against her, the wet heat of her mouth, the drag of her teeth against his skin. Then he pulled back so he could look into her eyes.

"As soon as I knew about the baby I knew I _wanted_ it," he said softly. She raised her hand to stroke his beard, and he kissed her palm. "I knew I wanted to try to be a good father, for you and for the babe. And I will Emma. I _will_ be a good father."

He rested his hand on her stomach, where the little life he and Emma had created together was growing.

"I can't wait for you to hold him," she said.

"Me either, love."

-

He held her while she fell asleep, humming quietly in her ear.

During the day, as long as Emma wasn't overtired or hungry or stressed, she remained mostly free of her visions. Nighttime, however, was a different story. At night there was nothing he could do except hold her and sing to her, hoping his voice would draw her back to him.

He sang songs he remembered his mother singing to him, songs that he remembered making him feel safe. After she'd died, he'd sing those same songs to himself whenever he was scared or lonely. 

When Emma awoke, shaking and dripping sweat, he was there to soothe her back to sleep. Then he'd settled back in to wait for the next one.

-

Friday brought even more surprises.

One minute Killian was walking along as they had been for nearly 6 hours, staring at the churned up mess of snow and mud that carpeted the forest floor, and the next an arrow whizzed past his head so close it nicked his ear. He clapped a hand to the side of his head and felt blood beneath his fingers.

 Another arrow flew by, narrowly missing Ian's shoulder.

"Get down!" he shouted, and tackled Ian to the ground. He rolled, eyes searching for Emma, and saw her crouched behind a tree a few feet to his left. They stared at each other for a moment, holding still, waiting for more arrows, waiting for Mordred to give away his position, but nothing happened. After a few minutes, they all rose carefully to their feet to find the woods empty once more.

"Where the hell did he get a bow from?" Ian demanded, angrily brushing snow and mud from his jeans.

"Does it matter? He's got one now." Emma said dryly. "And our protection spell doesn't exactly repel arrows."

"That's going to slow us down," Killian said.

" _Great_ ," Ian spat. "Just what we need."

-

When they returned to the farm that evening, they found David nursing a broken ankle. He was sitting at the kitchen table, injured leg propped up on a chair, clutching a glass of amber liquid.

"What happened?" Emma asked, rushing to his side.

"Fell into a pit," he grunted.

"A pit?" Killian asked. "What did you do that for?"

David glared. "It was a trap," he ground out. "I didn't see it."

"Great, now we've got to watch out for pits _and_ arrows," Emma said. Pale white light flowed from her hands and over her father's ankle. After a moment, the pained expression left David's face.

"How the hell are we supposed to keep an eye out for arrows if we have to look at the ground to avoid pits?" Ian asked.

"I think that's precisely the point," Killian said.

"They're fighting back," David said. He drained his glass of whiskey and set it sharply back on the table.

 "Aye. I'd say our window of opportunity is closing very quickly."

-

The next day Little John took an arrow to the leg and had to be rushed back to the farmhouse for Regina to heal him. The two days after that turned up naught. On the third day of absolutely nothing, Killian, Emma, and Ian sat dejectedly on a log, three in a row, staring forlornly out at the trees.

"At this point I think it's safe to say they've left the woods for good," Killian said.

"Where else could they be?" Emma asked.

"In town?" Ian suggested.

"That's rather clever," Killian said thoughtfully. "That's the one place we're not looking for them."

"So what are we supposed to do? Start breaking down people's doors?" Emma asked.

"You'd need a lot of search warrants," Ian said.

They were all silent for a while, then Ian asked, "Do you think if we ordered Chinese they'd deliver to the woods?"

Emma glanced at him. "Did you mean to say that out loud?"

"No," Ian admitted. "But do you?"

"Where would we even tell them to deliver to? The big tree next to the bigger tree?"

"More like the rock that looks like a sleeping dog next to the tree that looks like it has a butt."

"Huh," Killian said, squinting where Ian had indicated. "You're right."

"About the dog or the butt?"

"Both, I suppose."

Emma sighed and stood up. "We're not going to find anything out here. We may as well not waste our time. How about we pick up Henry and then pick up Chinese for dinner and go home?"

Killian and Ian rose from the log and followed her back towards the farm.

"I _still_ want to know if they'd deliver to the woods," Ian muttered.

-

Henry didn't want to come over. He told Emma he was busy with homework, but he'd been using that excuse to avoid them for days. Killian could see the carefully hidden hurt on both Emma and Ian's faces.  

"I think Henry's mad at me," Ian told him quietly as the two of them were setting up the kitchen table for dinner. "But I don't know what I did wrong."

Killian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I think I know what Henry's upset about, and trust me, lad, you didn't do anything wrong."

"How do you know?"

Killian paused to tug at his ear. "There's something I need to talk to him about that I should have talked to him about sooner."

Ian quirked one eyebrow questioningly.

"Just...just let me take care of it, alright?"

"Alright," Ian said.

-

After dinner, Killian was washing the dishes (sleeves rolled up past his elbows, hook and brace slung through the loop at the back of his jeans) and Emma was putting the leftovers away in the fridge -- she claimed that because Killian had never played something called "Tetris" that he wasn't allowed to even try -- when he heard something hit the floor with a splat. He turned curiously and saw Emma holding onto the refrigerator as if she might fall over if she didn't. There was a puddle of broth and dumplings at her feet.

Killian dropped the dish he was rinsing and ran to her side.

"Emma! Emma, what is it?"

But it was as if she couldn't hear him. She was having a vision, and she was trembling so hard the containers of milk and orange juice in the refrigerator door were shaking.

"Emma, love, listen to me. Listen to my voice," he whispered. He was afraid to startle her. He ran his fingers lightly over her back, trying to draw her from her vision. "Come back to me, Emma. Everything's alright, love. Everything's going to be alright."

He heard her breathing change, and then she turned to him, tears in her eyes. He took her into his arms, cradling the back of her head with his hand.

"Same thing?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. The vision never changed.

"Yea," she said.

"Everything's going to be alright," he said again.

"Whoa, what happened to the wonton soup? Wait -- why's mom crying?"

"It's nothing, lad. Don't worry. Would you mind fetching me the paper towels so I can clean up?"

"Mom, what's wrong?" Ian persisted, stepping closer warily.

"It's _nothing_ ," Killian repeated, "Now, please -- "

"I keep having visions," Emma said, startling Killian. Her hands clenched in his shirt against his back.

"Visions?" Ian asked. "Of, like, the future?"

"Yea."

"Oh. That's _it_?" he asked in confusion.

"You make it sound like having visions is normal, kid," Emma said, letting out a watery chuckle.

"For you it is."

"I -- what?" Emma asked. She turned in Killian's arms to face Ian.

Ian shrugged. "I mean, you know, not _every day_ , but when there's a crisis you _always_ have visions. Of like the worst case scenario."

"It's never happened to me before though," Emma said uncertainly, like she wanted to believe it but was too afraid to. Killian felt a bubble of hope forming in his chest.

"This time must be when they started then."

"So, what I've seen...it can be stopped?" she asked, and Killian heard the note of determination in her voice. Ian was offering her hope, and she was grasping for it.

"Yea, of course. That's _why_ you have the visions. To stop what you see from happening," he said, then, noticing the look on Emma's face, asked, "Why, what did you see?"

Emma hesitated. Killian rubbed her back encouragingly.

"I keep seeing Zelena take you from me when you're born. We're in the barn, and she...she kills you."

Ian looked unfazed. "That _definitely_ doesn't happen. First of all, I was born in a hospital. I've seen pictures."

"You've seen pictures of yourself being born?" Killian asked, horror-struck.

Ian rolled his eyes impatiently. "I've seen pictures of Henry holding me as a newborn in the hospital."

"Still, just because it hasn't happened in _your_ timeline doesn't mean it can't happen in this one," Emma argued. Killian was crestfallen. She was right.

"I _know_ it won't happen in this one," Ian said confidently. " _You're_ not going to let it."

"Ok," Emma said. She reached out and combed her fingers carefully through the hair over Ian's ear. He leaned his head into her hand slightly. "If you say I can change what I see in my visions, then that's what we're going to do, we're going to change it."

Ian grinned. Killian did too.

-

Emma was smiling to herself as they got ready for bed that evening.

"You look happy, Swan," Killian observed.

"I am," Emma said, and turned her smile on him. Killian felt as if the sun had just slipped out from behind a cloud.

Shedding his shirt and vest but keeping his jeans on, he sat next to her on the bed. She took his hand and held it between hers on her lap.

"Tell me, love," he encouraged her quietly.

"Hearing that these visions aren't just because I'm having a nervous breakdown or something makes me feel a lot better about having them."

"As does knowing that you can stop them, I imagine," he said, and kissed her bare shoulder next to the strap of her tank top.

"Yea," she said quietly, turning her head slightly towards him. "If I'm having visions of the future in order to stop that future from happening...I mean, that's good, right?"

He chuckled. "I'd say that's a very _Savior_ sort of power to have, Swan."

"Maybe...if these visions are an extension of my magic, maybe there's a way for me to see _more_. If I could see what led up to that moment in the barn, I'd know how to stop it."

Killian nodded thoughtfully. "What did you have in mind, love?"

"I don't know, exactly. Maybe if I opened myself up to the visions, instead of resisting them? Or maybe there's some sort of magical hypnosis I could try..." she trailed off, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Whatever you decide, Emma, I'm here."

She sighed. Her eyes dropped to their joined hands. "I think we missed our chance to get Zelena."

"I do too," he said, mood sobering. "She's had three full days of rest. Add that to however much she's managed to get over the past week, and I'd say we're -- "

"Screwed," Emma supplied.

"Aye, we're screwed."

"So what's Plan B?" she asked.

"I think our only option is to fall back to our defenses," he said.

"And what, just _wait_?" she asked, nose wrinkling in distaste at his suggestion.

"Last time we pursued the witch while she was at strength, and we nearly lost," he explained. "So let's change our tactics. We need to be cautious and conserve our energy. Zelena's impatient and arrogant. We can exploit those faults if _we_ are patient. And while we're waiting -- "

"Oh no," she cut in. "Is this about to be another "enjoy the quiet moments" speech?"

"Aye. It is." He grinned slyly. "While we're waiting there's absolutely no reason not to go on as if everything's normal."

"Killian, I don't even think I know what normal _is_ anymore."

"Going to work is normal," he said, kissing her shoulder again, slowly trailing his lips upwards. "Dropping the boys off at school every morning is normal. Having Granny's for dinner and then watching Netflix is normal. Having _sex_ is normal."

He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it gently, making her giggle. Her hand fell to his leg and her fingers traced the inside seam of his jeans from his knee to his groin. Even through the thick fabric her touch set his skin tingling with pleasure. She cupped his growing erection throw his trousers and he moaned with sudden need. He pushed his hips forward, into her hand, seeking more contact, and she squeezed him.

" _Swan_ ," he said breathlessly.

Her fingers fumbled at his belt and zipper. He helped her undo them, clumsy in his haste. Her hands slipped inside his undershorts, pulled him free, and gave him a few quick strokes. Her touch was _heaven_. He moved suddenly, maneuvering her onto her back so that she was lying against the pillows. He took a moment to remove his jeans and undershorts before sliding Emma's panties off, then coaxed her legs open and lay between them, grinning up at her.

She was breathing unevenly in anticipation already, and when he lowered his chin, breath ghosting over her core, she shivered. His tongue darted out experimentally and she let out a little gasp.

Oh yes, he was going to enjoy unraveling her tonight.

"Hold still," he said, and lowered his head once more. The golden hair between her legs tickled his nose. He passed his lips over hers, letting just the tip of his tongue trace her folds, exerting only the slightest pressure, enjoying the soft sounds tumbling from her lips.

He opened his eyes to see hers staring back, pupils blown wide with desire. He slipped his hand along the sheets until he found hers and laced their fingers together. Killian applied his tongue again, concentrating his attention on her most sensitive spot, then he slipped lower, and dipped his tongue inside her. She moaned and he hummed in response. Her fingers squeezed his, nails biting into his skin. He worked her with his mouth, tongue gliding in and out and then up and around, relishing the taste of her. His cock was pressed between his body and the bed, and he ground his hips into the mattress, wishing it was _her_ surrounding him, until her hand left his and she was tugging him upwards.

"I want to come with you inside me," she said.

Killian was more than happy to oblige. He scrambled to his knees and laid his hips over hers, carefully keeping his weight off her stomach. He rubbed the head of his cock over her swollen core, teasing both of them before entering her. He kept his strokes slow and deep, angling his hips to hit the spot he knew would drive her over the edge. Heat built quickly at the base of his spine. When Emma let out a groan and arched her back, her inner walls fluttering around his cock, he followed her immediately into bliss, digging his knees into the mattress and burying himself inside her.

They lay in a gasping heap until Emma rolled them onto their sides. She wound herself around him and tucked her head beneath his chin. He pulled the covers over them, and, body still tingling, closed his eyes.

-

"16 weeks," Emma said, some time later.

"Hm?" He cracked one eye open. He was pretty sure he'd fallen asleep for a few minutes.

"The pamphlets said at 16 weeks the baby can probably hear our voices. Which means the baby can hear you when you sing to me."

"Well, in that case..." Killian said, and moved lower to hum against her belly.

Emma giggled. Killian kissed her stomach, and then scooted back upwards to press kisses to her neck and shoulder.

"I love you, Emma," he said.

"I love you, too," she mumbled sleepily. "So does the baby."

"Tell you that, did he?" Killian teased.

"Mmhm, he did. I told him he's got the best dad ever."

"And what did he say to that?"

" _Duh_."

Killian laughed. He slid his hand beneath her tank top to run his fingers along her belly.

"I'm not going to let anything happened to him," he said softly.

"I know," Emma said. Her eyes met his, and he felt like for the first time since her visions had started, she said it like she meant it.

"We should probably start getting ready for him soon. All he has is a pair of pajamas and a book."

Killian tensed, not willing to let his excitement overwhelm him quite yet. Not until he knew for certain. "Is that what you want to do, Emma?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Yea. I sort of thought I didn't want to get his nursery ready or anything until Zelena was gone, but now I think I do want to. I want her to know we're not going to let her win."

Killian made a snap decision. "Emma, there's something I want to show you."

"What? What is it?"

"Can you call your father and ask him to come over and stay with Ian for an hour?"

"Killian, what -- "

"Emma, do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said.

"Then trust me right now. It will all make sense, I promise."

"Alright, I'll call my dad. But you'd better have a _really_ good explanation for him when he gets here."

-

"The Jolly Roger?" Emma asked in confusion.

"Aye. Follow me," Killian said, and led her from the car onto his ship and into the Captain's quarters.

Emma lit the lamps with a wave of her hand -- as he knew she would -- and gasped. In the center of the room was the crib.

"Is that...?"

"It's for the baby," Killian said.

Emma walked over to it slowly. She ran one hand along the railing.

"The house was a promise for our future. This crib is a promise to you and the baby. A promise that I'll be the father he deserves."

Emma was silent, still staring at the crib. Her other hand went to her stomach.

Killian licked his lips nervously. "What do you think?"

She turned to him, and her eyes were shining with tears. "I think you're going to be a _great_ dad."

Killian let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He started babbling. "I wanted to give it to you sooner, but with Zelena here it didn't seem like the right time, but then I thought maybe preparing for the future would help keep us looking forward optimistically, and -- "

Emma silenced him with a hard kiss.

"I love you," she said. " _We_ love you. Me and the baby. And Ian loves you too."

-

The following morning, it took David and Killian nearly three hours to transport the crib from the Jolly Roger to the nursery. Killian had wanted Henry to help, but Henry said he had a test to study for and couldn't. Ian of course said it was too weird and hid in the den playing video games.

Emma stood before the crib, caressing the railing lovingly. Suddenly, she gasped. Killian jumped, thinking she was having another vision, and ran to her side, heart in his throat.

But he saw that she was smiling, both hands pressed against her middle.

"Emma, love, what is it?"

She looked up at him, her expression a mix of pure excitement and wonder.

"I felt him move! I felt the baby move!"

A thrill ran through Killian's entire body. "Truly?" he asked, hand joined hers.

"Yes! Here," she said. She took his wrist and moved his hand. All he felt, however, was the round swell of her belly.

"I don't feel anything..." he said.

"Hold on...there!" she said, and looked at him excitedly again. "Did you feel it?"

"No," he said, but he couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. He leaned forward and captured Emma's lips in a kiss, crushing his mouth against hers.

When they broke apart, he said, "I'm happy you felt him, Emma." His hand remained on her belly, thumb rubbing back and forth.

"I'm sorry you didn't."

"That's quite alright. I will eventually. For now I can use my imagination. It's enough knowing that _you_ can feel him."

She bit her lip. "I love you."

"I love _you_ , Emma. You," he said, and bent double to plant a kiss on her stomach, "You _and_ little Killian."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and make a shift back to shorter chapters. Not only will it benefit my update schedule, but it will likely also benefit my writing. I'm aiming to have Ch. 42 done in the next few days. As always, thank you for your patience and THANK YOU FOR READING AND (HOPEFULLY???) ENJOYING!!!

Emma woke up before sunrise. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, trying to recall her dream, analyzing every detail -- had something changed? Had she seen anything different? It was like trying to hold water in her cupped hands. The images slipped from her memory until one remained: the image of Zelena holding baby Ian and cackling.

Emma gave up trying to remember her dream and focused on reality instead. Killian was still asleep. The sound of his breathing was close and comforting. She turned her head. He was lying on his side, his hand resting on her stomach -- even in his sleep it was still his deepest instinct to protect her and the baby.

Emma shifted carefully, turning onto her side so she could see him better. Killian's hand, impossibly, moved with her to remain against her belly. The only light filtering into their bedroom was that grainy, pre-dawn grayness, but even in the near-darkness Killian's pale face was clearly visible, with his dark hair flopping over his forehead, and his long, dark lashes resting delicately on his cheeks.

Sometimes it astounded Emma just how attractive he was. She reached out and traced the curve of his ear gently with one fingertip. He woke instantly. He didn't startle awake, he merely opened his eyes and gazed sharply into hers, perfectly alert as if he'd just been pretending to sleep. Emma knew she was glimpsing the pirate captain, ready to draw a blade or his hook to defend himself, but then he blinked and he was Killian again, smiling softly.

"Good morning, love."

"Hey," she greeted. "Have any good dreams?"

"What use do I have for good dreams when I get to wake up to you?"

She snorted, and his smile became a toothy grin. "Mostly I dreamt that the dwarves and I were building the bar," he said. "Rather tedious, as that's exactly what I'll be doing whilst awake."

"You're not anxious about going back there today, are you?" she asked, sliding her hand down from his ear to rest against his jaw.

"No. Truthfully I'm glad to return to normal -- normal except for Zelena looming over us like a storm cloud, of course," he said. "I'm excited to begin working towards our future again."

Emma smiled. "Me too."

He turned his head to press a brief kiss to the inside of her wrist. "Are you and your father interviewing potential new deputies today?"

"We're a long ways away from interviews," she said dryly. "We're still weeding through the applications."

"You don't sound too optimistic there, Swan."

"I don't know _where_ my dad advertised, but all the applicants so far are..."

"Inadequate?"

"That's putting it mildly, but yea."

"Do you think perhaps the problem doesn't lie with the applicants, but with -- "

"With _me_?"

"Not with _you,_ love," he said, a touch impatiently. "Just with your difficulty letting go -- of letting others take charge. The town won't crumble just because Sheriff Swan takes maternity leave."

She glared. Half of her knew he was right, but half of her resisted. And the latter part wanted to argue.

"Storybrooke isn't a normal town -- we don't just need some deputies who can answer phones or walk little old ladies across the streets, we need people who can handle a crisis. You know, dark magic and monsters and shit. Who here is capable of that?"

"I think plenty of people, Swan," he said quietly, bringing her up short. "I think you just need to give them a chance. Let them help."

"But -- "

"You're forgetting that many of the people who live here grew up in the Enchanted Forest, where Regina reigned as the Evil Queen for many a year. They're quite accustomed to mortal peril and defending themselves against it. You may be the _most_ capable one here, Swan, but that doesn't mean everyone else is _in_ capable. And you're not the only one with a stake in this town. This is many people's home now, for better or worse, and they're willing to fight for it. They just need someone to lead them."

"Someone like me and my dad?"

"Aye. You're a princess, Emma. You were _born_ to lead. And you do it quite well," he said, then added, "When you're not refusing to let people help you, that is."

"How do you know so much?" she asked.

"This may surprise you, but I also possess keen observational skills," he said, and smirked. "I spent plenty of time in this town on the outside looking in, and I noticed a few things."

"Oh yea?" she teased, lifting her chin challengingly. "What else did you notice?"

Killian's eyes glinted as he leaned closer. "I noticed the way the sun shines in your hair like spun gold. I noticed the way your smile lights up your eyes. I noticed the way you look at Henry like he's the most magnificent thing you've ever seen," he said, punctuating each statement with a kiss. He pulled back, lips still parted enticingly. "And I noticed the way the others look to you, Swan. You don't have to do everything on your own."

Ian's words echoed back to her: _I'm going to be Sheriff too. So you don't have to fight all the bad guys alone all the time._

"Alright," she admitted finally. "Maybe I _am_ afraid to let others take responsibility for the town."

He watched her, waiting.

"I...I guess I feel like since _I'm_ the one who broke the curse and _that's_ when all the bad things started happening that it's my job to keep it safe from all those bad things. But maybe...maybe I should let them help, instead of just assuming they need to be protected all the time."

"I'm happy to hear it, love," he said. "Although, I do have to admit that part of that happiness is selfishness."

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ that hiring deputies will eventually lead to you having more free time. Which means more time you and I get to spend together, and more time you and I get to spend together with the boys."

"Yea, that does sound pretty nice," she said, smiling.

Killian chuckled. "I _thought_ you might agree."

They made love lying on their sides, her leg hitched up, his hips moving against hers slowly and rhythmically until a shudder indicated he had climaxed. His hand darted between her legs, and after a few quick drags of his fingers through her folds she was falling with him.

Afterwards, he lay looking at her with an expression of wonder.

"Hm?" she asked.

"It's just that sometimes I still can't believe that this life I'm living is actually mine," he said.

"Me either," she said, and snuggled closer. She rubbed her nose against his chest hair. "Are you going to talk to Henry today?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to, you know, if you don't want to..."

"I _do_ want to, Emma. I think I know exactly what's on his mind, and I can help."

Emma nodded against his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. "Of course, love."

-

When she finally decided it was time to get out of bed and get ready to go into the station, Killian stopped her sliding out from beneath the covers with a gentle brush of his fingers against her arm.

"Hm?" she asked, turning back.

"Did _you_ dream last night, Emma?"

"Yea," she said. "Same thing. I still haven't been able to change it."

" _Not yet_ ," he said firmly, and he grinned at her.

"Not yet," she agreed, and smiled back.

* * *

Killian sat heavily on the edge of Ian's bed, jostling him awake.

"Dad? Wha'issit?" Ian asked groggily, blinking rapidly up at Killian.

Killian didn't answer, he merely held out the plate containing a single strawberry PopTart.

Ian stared at it for a moment. "What?" he said blankly.

"There's another one of these and a cup of coffee waiting downstairs. Get dressed for school and meet me in the kitchen."

Ian slumped back against the pillows. "Do I _have_ to go?"

"Aye. We agreed."

" _You and mom_ agreed."

"Precisely. Your mother and I are in charge of this vessel. _You_ are crew, and crew follow orders. Now, are you going to eat this PopTart, or shall I?"

-

Ian shuffled downstairs fifteen minutes later, bathed and dressed. He slid into a chair at the table, reached for the mug and pulled it towards him. As he lifted it to his lips he stopped.

"This isn't coffee," he said, peering into the mug in confusion.

"Correct," Killian said. "It's orange juice. Plenty of vitamins. Your mother says you're growing."

"You said there was coffee," Ian accused.

"Aye, but I never said it was for you," Killian smirked, then took a sip from his own steaming mug.

"Next you're going to tell me that my PopTart wasn't really a PopTart," Ian said, snatching the disgusting excuse for a pastry from his plate and gesturing with it.

"No, the PopTart was real," Killian said.

"Phew," Ian said in relief, and took a bite of his breakfast.

"The boiled mackerel and carrot sticks I packed for your lunch are real as well."

Ian groaned.

-

Emma had driven the car to work, so Killian and Ian walked to school. The weather was surprisingly mild. Some of the snow drifts appeared smaller, and there were puddles forming in the gutters.

As they passed a house that had large paper hearts hanging in the window, Ian said, "It's February 1st," in a tone of voice suggesting it was the apocalypse.

Killian eyed the non-offending decorations. "What's so bad about February 1st?"

"What's so bad is that for the next two weeks everyone at school will be going _crazy_ for Valentine's Day."

"What's Valentine's Day?"

"It's a holiday about kissing and chocolate and stuff. People go out on dates and buy each other flowers and we hand out Valentine's Day cards at school and there are _dances_."

"Chocolate, dancing, and kissing. That all sounds quite nice. Perhaps some girl will request a kiss from _you_."

"Not if I have _fish breath_ ," Ian hissed, shooting Killian a glare. "Besides, the girl I like isn't here, so what's the point?"

"Rowan?"

Ian didn't respond, but the pink tint to his cheeks was all the answer Killian needed. He had a sudden thought.

"Tell me about her."

"Huh?" Ian whipped his head around to stare at Killian in surprise.

Killian shrugged. "I've been teasing you about her this whole time, but I never actually asked you what it is about her that you like so much."

Ian was silent for a moment, and then he said, rather breathlessly, "She's amazing."

Killian ducked his head to hide a smile.

"She's good at everything she does -- I've never seen her _not_ be awesome at something. And she's nice. Really nice. Just... _so nice_. Except sometimes she can destroy someone with _one_ comment, you know, if they're being a jerk or something. And she's really pretty -- oh my gosh, _her hair_. And she smells nice. Like strawberries. And when she laughs it's like the laugh a butterfly would have if a butterfly could laugh."

He said it all in a rush. Killian smoothed his hand over his mouth, trying to shape it from a foolish grin back into a neutral expression. When he felt he had himself under control, he cleared his throat and said, "Sounds like you have quite the crush."

Ian's blush deepened to crimson.

"Does Rowan feel the same way?"

"I...I don't know," Ian admitted. "Sometimes I think she thinks I'm an idiot. Or, like, a big dork."

"Mm," Killian said.

"I kissed her once," Ian said quietly.

" _Did you now_?" Killian asked, beaming.

"Yea. It was on Christmas. There was mistletoe."

"And?" he prompted eagerly. Killian knew Ian was young still, that he might fall in and out of love several times over the next decade, but there was nothing quite as intense or all-consuming for a teenager as that first bloom of love, and Killian was _excited_ for him.

"I think about it a lot. Dad, how do you know when you love someone?"

Killian looked at Ian, and he could tell by his boy's face that he was looking back and seeing _dad_ \-- not _past dad_ , just _dad_.

"Well -- " Killian started.

"Story time," Ian sing-songed. Killian rolled his eyes and reached out to tug Ian's earlobe, making the boy giggle and squirm away.

"That's what you get for disrespecting your father," he teased. "Anyway, as I was saying...I was rather infatuated with your mother from the moment she first held a knife to my throat," Killian said. Ian chuckled. "But I wasn't certain it was love until I kissed her."

"In Neverland?"

"Aye," Killian grinned. "In Neverland."

"What would you have done if mom didn't love you back?"

"Funny you should ask, because at first I wasn't certain that she did," he said. "Chemistry and love are not necessarily the same thing."

Ian suddenly looked disgusted.

" _Relax_ , lad," Killian said. "What I mean to say is that I knew your mother also had feelings for me, although I didn't know how deep those feelings went. I _hoped_ it might be love -- or that it might one day grow into love."

Ian's words from the hospital flashed across his mind: _Dad's told me this story too. Trust me, ten of you couldn't have stopped him._

"I only knew that I had to at least try," Killian finished. "And if she didn't love me the way I loved her...I still wanted to be near her. Your mother changed me. If her friendship was all I could have, then I would have been content to call myself her friend for the rest of my days."

Ian nodded. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack with white knuckles.

"Does Rowan know how you feel about her?" he asked, suspecting he knew the answer.

"I've never told her. I was planning on telling her and then asking her to the spring dance."

"Ah," Killian said. "And if she doesn't return your feelings? Are there any other girls you're interested in?"

Ian sighed dramatically. "There's no one like her, dad. If she doesn't like me back then I guess I'll have to content myself with staring longingly at her from across the classroom."

Killian laughed. He was no stranger to longing from a distance.

"Hey, dad?" Ian asked, suddenly serious.

"Yes, lad?"

"I'm really glad you _did_ try. You know, with mom. I like existing."

Killian grinned. "I rather like you existing too," he said, and pulled Ian against his side with an arm over his shoulder. He dropped a kiss to the top of Ian's head. "I can't imagine my future without you."

"It'd be quiet," Ian said.

Killian laughed. "Aye, it likely would be. Probably rather boring, as well."

Ian grinned up at him.

-

When they reached the school yard, Ian's smile evaporated. Killian felt him tense up.

"Are you sure Henry's not mad at me?" he asked.

Killian took Ian by the shoulders and turned him around so they were facing each other. "I'm _certain_ ," he said,

"Ok," Ian said, nodding to himself. "See you after school?"

"Yes, I'm picking you up. I have something planned."

"Can't wait!" Ian said, and darted away.

-

Killian hung back in the school yard to wait, pretending not to notice the furtive glances other parents threw his way. Finally, the small yellow bus that carried Henry to school pulled up, and out piled Henry with a handful of other students.

"Henry," Killian called. Henry turned, eyes searching, and caught sight of Killian, who didn't miss the sudden frown. "Come here for a moment, lad."

Henry hesitated. He looked to the school as if contemplating ignoring Killian and going inside, then squared his shoulders and slowly stalked over, every line of his body screaming unwillingness.

"What?" Henry asked brusquely, eyes on the ground.

"You're coming with me today," Killian said cheerfully.

Henry looked up, brows knit in confusion. "But...I have school."

"Your mother called you in sick on her way to work today."

"But what about my other mom? She'll be mad if I skip school."

"Regina already knows."

He and Emma had coordinated with Regina. They had anticipated every possible argument Henry might try to put up. Henry neither had an important assignment to hand in nor was he missing a test. He wasn't even missing his favorite class -- library.

Henry's frown deepened. "Where are we going?"

"To the docks."

"It's too cold to go sailing."

"We're not going sailing. I said we're going to the docks, not my ship."

"What are we going to do at the docks?"

"You'll see when we get there."

Killian turned and walked from the school yard, knowing Henry would follow.

-

Killian led Henry to one of the boathouses next to the docks.

"What are we doing here?" Henry asked, and, despite his angry front, Killian could see his natural curiosity showing through.

"Do you remember the last time you were here?" Killian asked.

"Yea," Henry said. He shifted his weight back and forth uncertainly.

"Do you remember _why_ you were here?"

"You were trying to send me away from Stroybrooke on a boat to protect me from Zelena. But her flying monkeys chased us."

"Aye. What else?"

Henry's lips tightened in frustration.

_There it is._

"And then Zelena tried to kill me and mom had to save me."

"It seems you need to be rescued quite often," Killian said.

Henry's nostrils flared angrily.

"I'm not taunting you," Killian said calmly. "I'm merely stating a fact. The adults here always have to protect you."

"Yea."

 "And that bothers you."

"Yes," Henry hissed, then his voice rose as he said, "Everyone treats me like a little kid; like I can't defend myself."

"Well," Killian said casually, tucking his hand into his vest pocket. "Would you like to _learn_ how to defend yourself?"

Henry blinked. "What?"

"I'm asking if you would like to learn how to defend yourself."

"How? I don't have magic."

Killian shrugged. "Neither do I. Neither do your grandparents nor Robin. Neither did your mother until recently."

He could tell from the look on Henry's face that that had never occurred to him.

Killian walked to one of the longboats stacked against the wall, flipped back its canvas cover, and pulled two wooden sparring swords from inside.

He offered one to Henry, but Henry just stared at it.

"Where I grew up, it's common for a boy your age to be at least acquainted with the basics of swordplay."

"Yea, well," Henry said, lifting his chin stubbornly. "This isn't the Enchanted Forest."

"No. It's Storybrooke. Which means it's even more important for you to know how to use a sword."

Henry gazed at him steadily for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the stick again.

"Do my moms know you're doing this?"

"Nope," Killian said brightly.

Henry took the stick.

Killian grinned. "Now," he said, taking a few quick steps backwards. "Your father and grandfather taught you a few things about fencing, correct?"

Henry nodded.

"Alright then, let's see your stance."

Henry looked unsure for a moment -- heightening Killian's suspicion that any "lessons" given by David or Neal had been more for fun than learning -- then arranged himself with his feet planted shoulder width apart, sword held in front of him in two hands.

Killian couldn't say he was surprised. He walked over and tapped Henry's left foot with his own. "Move this one back to here," he said, dragging the toe of his boot in the dirt to mark lines to indicate where Henry should place his feet.

"Really?"

"Aye. Turn your body sideways -- that's it. You want to give your opponent the smallest possible target, otherwise they'll put their blade right through your chest."

He walked a full circle around Henry, adjusting little things here and there, then returned to his place opposite.

"Much better," he praised. "Are you ready?"

"Yea," Henry said, and licked his lips nervously.

"Now, if I do this," he said, and slow-motion lunged, angling his stick to Henry's inside, "What are you going to do?"

Henry parried, but it was sloppy.

"If you do that, my next move would be this," Killian said, and showed Henry how his parry left him completely vulnerable. Killian straightened and stood back. "So, let's try that again. If I do this, what are you going to do?" he asked, and recreated his initial lunge.

Henry thought for a moment, brow furrowed, lower lip between his teeth, and then parried again, and this time he left Killian no opening.

"Excellent!" Killian said, grinning. "Let's try that again a few times with more speed, as if I'm actually attacking. And this time, don't move the rest of your body so much. You don't want to throw yourself off balance."

Henry nodded firmly, and set his feet again.

-

After a few hours, when neither of them could lift their sword arm properly anymore, they stowed the sparring sticks back in the longboat and went to lunch.

The day had grown warmer. Compared to the arctic cold they'd been living in for the past two months, it felt like summertime. Henry's hair was plastered to his forehead and he was carrying his coat folded over his arm. Killian had been forced to shed his own jacket and roll his sleeves up. He removed the brace from his left arm -- nearly sighing in relief at the caress of fresh air against his exposed skin -- and slung the hook through one of the loops of his jeans.

At the Fish & Chips place, Killian ordered a basket of fried calamari for him and Henry to share as they waited for the rest of their meal.

"So," Killian pressed, "what did you think?"

"That was awesome!" Henry gushed. "My dad and grandpa never actually taught me how to use a sword, we just sort of played around. But today -- that was _so cool_!"

Killian grinned. "You're a fast learner. I think you'll be quite good at it in a few weeks."

"You mean we're going to do it _again_?" Henry asked, eyes wide.

"Aye," Killian said, then added quickly, "If you'd like to, that is."

" _Of course_ I want to!"

"I'm happy to hear it, lad."

-

Killian waited until they had both finished their lunches before he rested his elbows on the table, leaned forward slightly, and asked, "Would you like to tell me what's been bothering you?"

To Killian's relief, Henry didn't withdraw. He _did_ look away -- clearly gathering himself -- so Killian waited.

As the minutes dragged on, and Henry didn't speak, Killian finally prompted, "I suspect it has something to do with the novelty of having a brother from the future wearing off."

Killian saw something like shame flit across Henry's face, and his heart swelled with sympathy for the boy.

Henry's hands dropped to his lap, and he fiddled with the ends of his scarf. "No, it's just that..." he took a deep, steadying breath. "It's just that he's...special."

He lifted his eyes to Killian's, and when Killian didn't respond, he sighed and said, "He made friends really easily at school. A lot of girls like him, too. It's never been like that for me. Not in Storybrooke, at least. When I'm at school here I feel like I don't belong. I thought it would be the same way for Ian -- since he's from the future and he doesn't know anyone here -- but he's like...the _coolest_ person in 7th grade right now."

"He's the new kid," Killian said, remembering what Emma had said. "It's a small town. Perhaps the other children are just curious."

Henry shrugged. "No, that's just how he is. People like him. I don't know. Whatever. It was...it was actually fine, you know? I was okay with it. Because we were still best friends and I could tell he still liked me more than the other kids at school."

"So what changed?"

"What changed is that you and mom started treating him like he's special too."

Killian's heart broke at the utter dejection he heard in Henry's voice.

"Because we took him with us to search the woods," Killian said.

"Yea," Henry said, and Killian saw him clench his fists angrily. "And I _know_ the only reason you guys let me go at all was just because Ian was there and you were taking him. But then _I_ had to go back to school and Ian didn't. And then..."

"And then what?" Killian prompted, knowing there was more, knowing Henry needed to get it all out in the open.

"And then I saw him fighting those fire snakes that the torches turned into, and I realized he _is_ special. He's a hero. He saved you and grandpa. He saved mom at the barn when Zelena arrived."

Henry bit his lip. Killian saw tears in his eyes.

"Henry," Killian said gently. "You _are_ special. You -- "

"No, I'm _not_ ," Henry said, shaking his head. "And when the baby's born, you guys are going to forget about me because I'm not like he is."

"Why do you think he's special and you're not?" Killian asked.

"He has magic."

"Do you think magic is what makes your mother special?"

"No, she's special because -- I don't know. She's _mom_."

" _Exactly_. Magic isn't what makes your mother special. Magic isn't what makes _anyone_ special. And if magic _is_ the only thing that does make a person who they are, then they're not a very good person, are they? Think about Zelena: what does she have, other than magic? Think about -- I'm sorry for this, but think about Rumplestiltskin. All they had was magic, and look at them."

Henry's startled eyes darted away.

"Henry, not having magic doesn't make you _not special_. You're one of the _most_ special people I know. You brought your mother to Storybrooke, and you made her _believe_ \-- and we both know how stubborn your mother is."

The corners of Henry's lips quirked.

"You're clever," Killian continued. "You're resourceful. And you're more optimistic than both of your grandparents combined."

Henry was wearing a full-blown, if somewhat shy, smile now.

"Not to mention you possess the Heart of the Truest Believer -- I don't know what's more special than that. _And_ you're the Author. Now, who can top all of that?"

Henry opened his mouth, but Killian cut him off.

" _No one_ , that's who. You are who you are, and Ian is who he is. Your mother and I don't want you to be anything except who _you_ decide you want to be. Understood?"

"I -- yea, I understand."

Killian let out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you?"

Henry visibly hesitated.

"Go on lad, you can tell me."

"I'm sort of jealous."

"Of what?"

"Of Ian. He gets to be raised by mom. And you. He gets a dad."

"Henry...one of your mother's biggest regrets is that she gave you away, even though she knows she made the right decision for you at the time. You can't blame her for that."

"I don't," Henry said quickly. "I don't blame her. I just...when I see you three together...you're a _family_ , and -- "

"Henry," Killian said fiercely. "You're part of that family. The baby won't change that. I may not be your father but that doesn't mean that anything I build with your mother doesn't include you. I meant what I said before: I'll always consider you as a son. _And fathers don't abandon their sons_."

That last part had escaped his lips before his brain had even processed his intent to say it. He clamped his jaw shut, teeth clicking audibly.

His initial thought was that Henry would think Killian was insulting Baelfire or somehow ridiculing him for _dying_ , but all Henry said was, "You promise?"

Killian swallowed hard. "I promise, Henry."

-

"You're not going to take me back to school now, are you?" Henry asked as they walked back towards Main Street. 

Killian chuckled. "You and your brother...I don't understand your aversion to school."

To his surprise, Henry looked stricken. "Ian," he breathed. "Is he mad at me?"

"He's not mad at you. He thinks _you're_ mad at _him_."

Henry's shoulders slumped. "He probably thinks I'm a jerk."

"He doesn't. He just doesn't understand what he did to upset you."

"He didn't do anything."

"I know. He just admires you so much it's difficult for him to believe that _you_ made the mistake."

"I...I didn't mean to."

"I know, lad. You did nothing wrong. Your feelings are perfectly valid. But you hurt your mother's and your brother's feelings a little bit. I think you should explain and apologize."

"Do you think Ian will forgive me?"

"Of course he will. You're his big brother, and he loves you."

Henry's expression made it clear he was still worried.

Killian sighed, and slung his arm over Henry's shoulder. "Being a big brother can be a heavy burden. More difficult even than being The Savior. Ian's going to look to you as an example as much as he does your mother or I."

"Ok," Henry said resolutely. "What about mom? Is _she_ mad?"

"She's not angry. She's just worried, but that's because she's your mother. She's always going to worry about you."

"Did your mom worry about you?"

Killian's breath caught. "My mother died when I was very young," he said carefully, trying to keep the emotion from his voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, lad."

"Was it hard not having a mom or a dad when you were a kid?"

"It...it was, aye. But I had my brother. He was enough."

"Liam, right?"

"Correct."

"Was Liam a good big brother?"

"He did the best he could," Killian said lightly, but he felt as though an anvil was sitting on his chest.

"Well, he must have done something right. He raised you and you're a pretty good guy."

Killian had to turn his face away to hide the tears that were suddenly stinging his eyes.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently late night Monday updates are my specialty??? Next chapter will be posted by next Monday (hopefully sooner).
> 
> Um, so, enjoy this nice, quiet moment, because shit hits the fan again next week. We're about to sort of descend into chaos.
> 
> Also, THE BEGINNING IS THE CONTINUATION OF THE EMMA HALF FROM THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Before Emma left for work that morning she dropped a kiss on Ian's forehead, whispered an "I love you, kid," -- to which she received a fuzzily mumbled "Love you, too" in return -- and then stopped in the doorway of the nursery, just to _look_ at the crib.

Because _honestly_ , how could she not?

Every time she laid eyes on it or even just thought about it she felt that flutter on the inside (the flutter she had initially thought was nerves or stress but now knew was the baby). Looking at it now started those flutterings again, as if the baby _knew_ she was in his future bedroom, thinking about what color to paint the walls, and was doing excited somersaults.

She smiled to herself and touched her stomach.

_That's right, cutie. That's your crib; the crib your dad got you because he loves you more than anything._

Killian had shown her the ins and outs, pointed out every minute detail (and even all the obvious ones -- like the fact that it matched the pajamas he'd bought for the baby; as if she didn't know _exactly_ what they looked like). He did it all a bit timidly, as if he was afraid she might find something she didn't like about the crib -- which Emma couldn't imagine because it was _perfect_.

She'd nearly forgotten that she'd seen it already, through the unicorn horn; there had been a million other things about that vision that had seemed more important -- the baby's giggling, Killian snuggled up with a toddler in his lap, the fact that their son was just about the purest little ray of sunshine in existence.

Almost in spite of herself, she'd started imagining what she wanted the nursery to look like. But then...that was exactly the point, wasn't it? To deny the future she'd seen in which Zelena took her baby by planning for one in which that didn't happen?

She rested her hands on the railing, and felt her confidence grow. It's very existence felt like a symbol of her and Killian's defiance. There was no way she was going to let Zelena stopping her from laying her kid down in this crib every night,  or from soothing him to sleep in the rocking chair she wanted to put in the corner.

Suddenly, she got a flash of another vision. She looked down and sleeping in the crib was baby Ian, swaddled tightly in a blanket printed with anchors, mouth plugged with a pacifier, fluffy blonde hair sticking up in every direction like the down on a baby duckling.

Startled, Emma pulled her hands away and took a step back.

Was that real?

Hesitantly, she stepped forward and stroked the railing again, and got another flash.

The baby was in the crib, wearing the blue-striped pajamas Killian had bought him. His eyes were open, wide and bright and blue, and he was looking up, past her. A hand attached to a leather-clad arm entered her vision from the right and reached into the crib to tickle Ian’s belly. The baby squirmed and giggled, pacifier tumbling from his mouth, legs kicking.

“ _Hey there, handsome lad_ ,” Emma heard Killian’s voice say. “ _Are you ready for breakfast? Your mother went to work early so it’s just you and me this morning.”_

Emma shook her head, coming back to herself. A grin spread slowly across her face. If that wasn’t a sign that Killian had been right – about planning for the future they wanted having an effect on that future – then she didn’t know what was.

-

Emma glanced at the clock. It was nearly 2. She checked her phone. No missed calls, no text messages.

She sighed. Her dad had stayed home with Neal because Neal was running a fever, so Emma had had the office to herself all day.

Which meant she'd had more than enough time to come up with a written test to screen the potential new deputies -- every other police department in America did it, so why not Storybrooke? Killian was right about letting other people help, but she'd be damned if she didn't make sure they knew _exactly_ what they were getting into: if they wanted to work in the Sheriff's department, Emma and David needed to be able to count on them to provide backup in case of a crisis.

Emma looked at the clock again. It was past 2. She was just beginning to seriously wonder if something bad had happened to them when Henry walked through the door.

"Hey," she said a little uncertainly, and stood up from her chair as he approached her desk. Henry didn't respond, he just opened his arms and engulfed her in a hard hug. Emma staggered back a step as his weight hit her. Her arms went around him immediately and she held him to her, wishing he was smaller, wishing she could hug more of him at once.

"I don't want to be left out of your family when the baby's born," he said into her sweater. "I know the baby's going to be special but I don't want you to forget about me."

Emma's arms tightened convulsively. Part of her mused that Killian's instincts had been dead-on, while the other part shattered into a thousand quivering pieces.

"Henry," she said, struggling to keep her voice from trembling, "how could I ever forget about you? You're my _son_. You're the first family I ever had. Without you there is no family, okay?"

He nodded shakily.

"No matter what, the baby's not going to change how much I love you. My love isn't finite. You and the baby don't have to split it like a..." she glanced around, and her eyes fell on the half-empty box of donuts that had been her breakfast lying on her desk, "like a bear claw."

Henry snorted. " _Mom_ ," he said.

"I know, I know. I couldn't think of anything else. But you know what I mean, right?"

He pulled his head up, sniffling, and said, "Yea."

She moved her hands to cup his cheeks, holding his gaze with hers. Soulful brown eyes stared back, and despite his age and despite his wisdom, she saw the little boy in him seeking reassurance.

"I'm not gonna lie, things are going to be difficult, at first," she said. "Babies are a lot of work. Killian and I are going to be really busy."

"I know."

"And everyone's going to be really excited about the baby and want to hold him and talk about how cute he is and -- "

"I want the baby to like me."

Emma wasn't sure what startled her more, Henry's statement or the laugh that ripped through her.

Henry frowned. "I'm serious," he said. "I want to be his big brother."

"You _are_ his big brother."

"Yea, but I mean I want to be a really _good_ big brother. I want to be someone he looks up to and really likes hanging out with and stuff."

"Henry," she said. "You _have_ met Ian, right? Does he seem like he doesn't like you? Because from where I'm standing it looks like he adores the absolute shit out of you."

Henry grinned momentarily, but then sobered immediately. "What if I mess it up?"

"What if you mess _what_ up? Being the amazing person that you are and -- "

"I was jealous of him," he said, and Emma heard the distress in his voice, and Emma's heart broke again at the courage it must have taken to reveal such a secret.

She stroked his hair away from his forehead, and asked gently, "Of Ian?"

"Yea," Henry said, and turned his head to look away, forcing Emma to drop her hands. "I felt...I felt bad because, well, I'm _normal_ , and Ian's...you know, he has magic and everything."

"Oh, Henry, you can't -- "

"I know," he said firmly, and he met her eyes again. "I know I shouldn't be jealous of who anyone else is. Killian said you and him want me to just be myself. And that's what I'm going to do. I'm just going to be Henry."

"Killian said, huh?" she asked, smiling.

"Yea."

Over Henry's head, Emma saw Killian standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She didn't look, but she didn't need to -- she could _feel_ the soft smile on his face, radiating love and warmth.

"Well, I'm glad," Emma said. "Because I happen to really, _really_ like Henry. And I know a lot of other people who do too. Including Killian."

Henry smiled. "I know he's standing behind me. Is he gonna be my step-dad?"

"U-um," she faltered, cheeks heating up. In the corner, Killian was bent double with laughter.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. She was going to _kill_ Ian for ever mentioning that her and Killian were married in the future. Next she'd have her dad after her...

"I mean," Henry continued, "If you guys are gonna have a kid and live in the same house, I think you should make it _official_."

"Can we talk about this some other time?" she asked, perhaps a little too shrilly. She opened her eyes again to see Henry grinning at her.

"Your mother's right," Killian said, joining them. His face was still red from laughing, but he had his voice under control. "We can discuss this later. There's actually something I really need to show you two."

"Right now?" she asked, thinking about the conversation she'd just had with Henry and how she'd like to follow it up with a nice relaxing stroll around the park -- and that was only partially because her legs were achy and walking helped. Hot chocolate would probably help her aching legs too.

"Yes, Swan. I think you're going to want to see this."

-

The bar was finished.

Emma and Henry followed Killian inside and stopped dead, staring around in amazement.

"After I dropped Henry at the station I came here, and...well, I found it like this." Killian said.

"I guess we know now where the dwarves kept disappearing to," she said.

"Aye," he replied, shaking his head in disbelief, the same awe on his face that Emma felt.

Everything about the interior felt cozy and familiar. The floor and wainscoting were the same dark wood, complemented by deep gold wallpaper patterned in a subtle, paler yellow. The bar itself was maple, stained a bright amber. Marco had taken great care with all the woodwork -- the carvings were simple yet elegant. There were stools lined up along the bar and clustered at the high-top tables set opposite the counter. At the back, beyond the bar, were a handful of low tables, and a small open space where Emma could imagine a musician or a band playing. Mostly, Emma was surprised they had been able to fit so much inside without it feeling cluttered.

"Killian," she breathed. "This is...this is -- "

"Magnificent, isn't it?" he said. "I don't know how I can ever repay Marco and the dwarves for this."

"Probably free drinks for life," she teased. "Where are they, anyway?"

"Lunch at Granny's. My treat," he said, and winked.

Emma walked up to the bar and ran her hand along the countertop. She got another flash: Killian pouring a beer from the tap, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms bare. She pulled her hand away and turned her back so Killian wouldn't see her smile. She hadn't told him about the little bit she'd seen that morning in the nursery yet -- she was saving it for later, when they were alone.

"What are you going to call it?" Henry asked abruptly, drawing Emma around.

"I-I've no idea..." Killian stuttered, dumbfounded. He glanced at Emma as if for help.

"You mean you never thought about it?" Henry asked incredulously.

Killian rubbed nervously behind his ear. "I was thinking that perhaps..." he trailed off, licked his lips, then continued, "I was thinking that perhaps _you_ might do the honors."

"Me?" Henry's mouth dropped open.

"Aye," Killian said. "Names are very important. Names can tell a story. And who better to help begin this bar's story than the Author?"

Henry was silent, mouth still gaping.

"Well, what do you think?" Emma prompted, nudging him with her elbow.

Henry came slowly back to himself. He blinked rapidly a few times, then said, "I think that would be awesome. Thank you, Killian."

"No, thank _you_ , lad," Killian returned, grinning.

-

The dwarves, Marco, and Will returned from Granny's, talking loudly and laughing. They crowded Killian, jostling him and clapping him happily on the shoulder.

Emma dragged her eyes reluctantly away from Killian's embarrassed smile to ask Henry, "What do you say you and I grab some hot chocolates and take a walk?"

"Sounds great," Henry said enthusiastically.

"Meet you outside?"

"Ok," Henry said, nodding, and left.

Emma caught Killian's eye, and he made his excuses to the men gathered around him and sidled over. His eyes twinkled merrily, and his cheeks were slightly pink. Emma grabbed his jacket with both hands and tugged. He responded immediately, arms snaking around her waist, head dipping to rest his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too. And I'm really proud of you."

"It's all for you, Emma," he breathed. "For you and Henry and the baby."

Emma raked the fingers of one hand through the stubble along his jaw. With a low, almost inaudible growl, Killian captured her lips in a kiss. She parted them, and his tongue darted inside eagerly. Immediately, a cascade of whistles and catcalls erupted from the other side of the bar.

"Oi! Get a room, mate!" Will called.

Emma laughed, breaking the kiss and pulling away.

"Henry and I are going to go for a walk," she said.

"Some mother-son bonding?"

"Yea. We haven't had a lot of that lately."

"How about the two of you have dinner together, and Ian and I will meet you afterwards?" he suggested.

"Are you sure?"

"Aye. I have something planned for the lad after school anyway."

"Ok, see you around 6? That way there's plenty of time for the four of us to watch a movie before they have to go to bed."

"Sounds fantastic, Swan," he said, and she gave him another long, lingering kiss before she left to join Henry.

 

* * *

 

Killian retrieved Ian from school and brought him back to the bar. The boy wasn't nearly as impressed as Killian had hoped he'd be.

"You don't like it," Killian said, feeling disappointment well up inside him.

"What?" Ian asked quickly, eyes wide. "Dad! No! I _love_ the bar -- I practically grew up here. It's like my favorite place. It's just that...you know, seeing it now, like this...it makes me feel sort of homesick," he finished sadly.

Killian laid his arm across Ian's shoulders and tugged the boy tightly against his side.

"I think I know something that can help take your mind off of it," he said.

"The thing you said you had planned?"

"Aye."

Ian raised one eyebrow. "What is it?"

Killian lifted the same eyebrow and tilted his chin down. "You'll see," he said, and smirked.

-

" _Now_ will you tell me what's going on?" Ian begged as they trotted up the gangplank to the Jolly Roger.

The sun was low on the horizon, throwing long shadows across the deck. They didn't have much time before it would be too dark and too cold for what Killian had in mind.

"Aye. We're here to test a theory," Killian said slowly.

"A theory? What theory?"

Killian led Ian towards the prow.

"I want to see if I know myself as well as I think I do," he said. Between the hatch and the foremast he had hidden two sparring sticks -- separate from the ones he'd used with Henry. He stooped, seized one wooden sword and tossed it to Ian, then picked up the other.

Ian caught the stick reflexively, but before he had time to react further, Killian attacked. He had a brief glimpse of Ian's shocked expression before he slashed. As Killian had expected it would, Ian's stick flitter out at met his with a clatter. Killian shifted, trying for Ian's other side, and Ian shifted with him. There was another clatter, then Ian rolled his wrist. Killian saw what he was doing, had plenty of time to stop it, but he let it happen. His stick was knocked from his hand and spun off to the side.

He straightened, and Ian followed suit, still gripping the stick firmly.

"DAD, WHAT THE HELL?" he shouted.

"I was right," Killian said lightly.

"Right about what?" Ian spat.

"Right in thinking that I wouldn't let my son reach his thirteenth year without having taught him a thing or two about swordplay."

"Well you coulda just asked!"

Killian shrugged. "Would you like to go again?"

"Yes," Ian said instantly, and set his feet.

-

"How's your hand?" Killian asked later, as they sat together on the deck, panting and sweating, breath misting in the air. Ian had raked his hand through his damp hair, setting it on end.

"Hm? Oh, it's fine." Ian said, but he was flexing his fingers as if they were stiff. Killian caught his hand, and touched his thumb to the scar.

"I'm sorry this happened. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," Killian said.

"You did protect me," Ian said. "You taught me how to defend myself in the first place."

Killian felt a swell of pride at his words.

"Still, I imagine your father will want to punch me in the face when he finds out."

Ian looked at him, blinked, and then a slow grin spread across his face. "Who do you think would win in a fight, you or him?"

Killian grinned too. "I don't know. I haven't met him yet. Who do _you_ think would win?"

Ian thought for a moment, lips pursed. Finally, he said, "He would."

Killian almost gasped indignantly. He couldn't keep the note of surprise form his voice as he said, "You really think so?"

"Yea."

"And why's that, might I ask?"

"Because he's awesome. And because he'd be offended if I _didn't_ say him."

Killian chuckled. "You're right. If I were him -- when I'm him -- I'd be offended too."

He leaned his head back and looked heavenwards. It was full dark. There were very few lights at the dock, making it fairly easy to view the stars. They stood out brightly against the purple-black blanket that was the night sky.

"Did you know the stars are different in every realm?" he asked quietly. "I can name every constellation in three realms, but I still haven't learned these ones yet."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ian glance at him, then raise his arm to point.

"There's the Little Dipper," he said. "The one that sort of looks like a spoon."

Killian squinted, eyes searching. "Ah," he said, when he found it. "Yes, I've noticed that one before."

"Yea, it's pretty easy to spot. Plus, you can see it year-round." He pointed to another one. "There's Orion, the hunter. See the three really close right in a row? That's his belt. Um...oh, there's Canis Major, the big dog." He moved his hand slowly, outlining each constellation. "Hey, did you know there's a Swan star?"

" _Really_?"

"Yea. You can only see her during summer though."

 _Her_. Of course.

"How do you know so much?" Killian asked.

"You taught me. When I was four you and mom bought me a telescope for Christmas, and every night you and I would come out here to look at the stars."

Killian lowered his eyes from the stars to look at Ian. The boy was still looking at the sky, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. He looked content.

"Hey, dad," Ian asked, eyes still fixed skywards.

"Yes, lad?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What do you think Zelena's doing right now?"

Killian felt something cold and hard settle in his stomach.

"Watching us," he said.

"Really?" Ian asked, and drew his gaze back down to earth.

"Aye. Now that she knows we've been preparing for her, she needs to determine exactly _how_ prepared we are and exactly how we've prepared."

Ian's eyes suddenly glittered fiercely. "We can't let her take Rowan," he said quietly.

"We won't."

-

Sometime later, Killian's phone vibrated. He drew it from his pocket to find a message waiting from Emma.

"Your mother said there's hot chocolate and red velvet cake waiting for us at Granny's."

"Yes to the hot chocolate, no to the cake," Ian said.

They stowed the sparring sticks below deck and made their way back towards town, following the warm, bright lights of Main Street.

"Did you talk to Henry?" Ian asked.

"Aye, lad, I did."

"And he's...he's not mad at me?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Killian said.

-

Inside Granny's, Killian expected there to be some initial tension between Henry and Ian, but Ian threw himself into the booth next to Henry and the two boys promptly ignored Emma and Killian and began talking as if nothing negative had ever passed between them.

Killian slid into the booth next to Emma and slung his arm along the back of the seat. She scooted against him, then leaned in close on the pretense of kissing his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, lips grazing his ear.

"Of course, love."

She rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed her hair, the scent of her shampoo tickling his nose, then laid his cheek atop her head. He watched the smiles on the boys faces, the way their eyes lit up excitedly as they discusses which movie to introduce Killian to that night. He listened to Emma's giggles, felt her fingers tracing lazy, nonsense patterns where they rested on his leg.

Killian thought about Zelena, out there somewhere in the cold and dark, in hiding, and he pitied her.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up pushing the major shit-hits-the-fan part to the next chapter, because I'm leaving tomorrow night to spend Thanksgiving in London with my BF, and: A) I wanted to have this chapter finished and posted by tonight, and B) I probably won't have the next chapter posted for 1.5-2 weeks, and I didn't want to leave it at the really rude cliffhanger I was originally planning on. So please enjoy this slide back into action, and forgive me in advance for the amount of time it will be between this post and my next one :)

Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten a full, uninterrupted night of sleep. It had been at least a week. If her nightmare vision of Zelena taking the baby weren't waking her constantly, then it was the sore back and leg cramps that kept her up.

Long, hot baths before bed (with Killian) and massages (by Killian) usually helped ease her aching body, but sometimes the splinters of pain shooting upwards from her ankles through her calves to her thighs were so intense that actual rest was impossible.

Which was why Emma was napping on the couch in the front room on a weekday. February had brought a wave of unusually warm weather and rain.

 _Lots_ of rain.

That afternoon Emma fell asleep listening to the rain, its gentle patter against the windows lulling her, and she woke to Killian's voice. It was low and quiet, pulling her gently from the warm embrace of sleep. Emma kept her eyes closed and listened.

He was reading to the baby.

" _Is your mama a llama? I asked my friend Fred._ "

She was lying along the couch, legs thrown over Killian's lap. He'd been massaging them before she'd fallen asleep -- he was outrageously good at it, which you might not expect from a guy with only one hand.

" _No, she is not, is what Freddy said_."

Killian's hand was resting on her belly. Occasionally it moved, rubbing up and down along the curve of the baby bump, and Emma felt a little flutter in response every time. A smile tugged at her lips, impossible to contain. Luckily, Killian was so engrossed in the book he didn't notice.

" _She has a long neck and white feathers and wings. I don't think a llama has all of those things_."

When she'd first felt the baby move nearly two weeks ago she couldn't help putting Killian's hand on her stomach, even though she knew it was too soon for him to be able to feel anything on the outside yet. Since then, she'd taken to describing how it felt: morning stretches, jumping jacks, barrel rolls, actual kicking -- anything to provide Killian with a vivid mental image.

" _Oh, I said. You don't need to go on. I think that your mama must be..._ "

The warmth and weight of Killian's hand disappeared briefly, and Emma heard the turning of a page before it returned.

" _A swan!_ " Killian gasped, and the exaggerated surprise in his voice (as if he hadn't read this particular book fifty times by now) made Emma laugh. She opened her eyes to see Killian's blue ones crinkled in a smile.

"Enjoy the story, _Swan_?" he asked.

"I did. The baby did too. He's been trying to high-five you."

Killian's eyes fell to her stomach, where his hand lay, and Emma knew he was picturing it. She placed both her hands over his and pressed.

"Anything?" she asked, after a minute.

He shook his head mutely.

"Don't worry," she said. "He's trying. He just hasn't found the right angle to kick me at yet. You'll feel him soon."

"Aye, love. Another week or so, according to the pamphlets."

He still referred to them weekly; tracking the progress of her pregnancy, informing her what was going on with her body as well as the baby's, and somehow, _somewhere_ , he'd picked up a new one that was entirely devoted to sex during pregnancy.

"There's no reason not to be cautious, Swan," he'd said. "Your body's changing and I don't want to risk harming you or the baby."

As if Emma hadn't noticed his careful, measured thrusts, or how he barely lay any of his weight atop her stomach. These days Emma was always the one setting the pace, pulling Killian's hips tight against hers, urging him to go harder, faster. Despite his tight control, he never failed to respond, to surrender himself to her and the moment.

She had to admit, pregnancy sex was pretty damn good.

"Are you sure you're just not looking for new positions to try?" she had teased, peering at the illustrations in the pamphlet over his shoulder.

"Are you suggesting I'm so uncreative that I must consult a manual?"

"Maybe," she'd said, smirking.

And with that, he'd tossed the pamphlets aside and tackled her to the bed, growling as he nuzzled into her neck. That time Emma hadn't needed to beg for _more_.

"Where are the boys?" she asked, realizing that the house was quiet. Emma pushed herself up on her elbows so she could see over the back of the couch. The sky was still ominously gray, but it seemed the rain had let up.

"They're outside."

"Playing with sticks again?"

Killian tutted. "They're not _playing with sticks_ , Swan. They're perfecting their swordplay."

Killian's "secret fencing lessons" had been a secret for less than a day. Killian himself had let it slip -- Emma suspected that the guilt of keeping a secret had been too much and he'd revealed it on purpose.

The fact that Ian knew how to use a sword didn't shock Emma. They'd apparently taught him lock-picking and pick-pocketing, so why not sword-fighting as well?

The fact that _Henry_ was now also learning was harder to accept. Her pregnancy and thoughts of the future were throwing into sharp relief just how much of Henry's childhood she'd missed, and she wanted to cling to every last bit of it left. But Emma knew she couldn't treat him like a little kid forever, and she also couldn't deny how much good fencing with Killian seemed to be doing him. She just hoped they'd never, ever have to use what they learned, that it would always be "just for fun", but it was better that they were prepared rather than helpless if the need ever arose. And it seemed, in Ian's case at least, that the need would arise.

"You know..." Killian said, "they'll likely be out there for a while. An hour at least."

Emma didn't miss his suggestive tone, or his sultry gaze.

His hand dropped lower. She felt his fingers through her leggings, caressing her core. Heat flooded her instantly, pooling in her belly and between her legs.

"Do you think we can...sneak into the bath?"

Killian snapped the book shut and jumped to his feet, pulling her with him. They checked the yard first just to make sure Ian and Henry were there and looked occupied, then went upstairs.

-

The bath water was scalding and it felt _glorious_. A moan escaped Emma's lips as she stepped into the tub and slowly, _slowly_ lowered herself beneath the water. Killian, already inside, had his arms out, braced to catch her if she fell. Emma leaned back against him, her head on his shoulder, and his arms settled around her.

He kissed her forehead and asked, "How do your legs feel?"

"Amazing," she said breathlessly, and he chuckled. She rested her hands on his wrists, fingers of her left hand curling around the blunted end of his arm. She stroked the skin there with her thumb, and Killian hummed in response.

She had been tentative with his stump at first -- not because it bothered her, but because Killian was so reticent about it that she wasn't sure how much, if anything, he felt there. When she'd first hesitantly massaged it, she'd been afraid to apply too much pressure in case it was sensitive.

As it turned out, it _was_ sensitive -- but in the best way possible.

As she kneaded her fingers against his wrist, his hand explored her body; sliding along her thigh as far as he couch reach, tracing the curve of her belly, cupping each breast in turn (he seemed to enjoy their ever-increasing fullness). She felt his length growing hard against the small of her back. He pinched one of her nipples and she gasped.

He stilled immediately.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly.

"No," she said. "Do it again."

He tucked his face into her neck below her ear and complied. The little thrill of pleasure  his fingers on her nipples sent through her entire body made her back arch and her toes curl. His hand slid between her legs to caress her folds, and another groan of pleasure slipped from her.

"Touch me," he said, teeth grazing her ear.

She reached behind her, in between their bodies, and grasped him. He gave a sharp intake of breath and dropped his head to nip her shoulder. She kept her strokes slow, twisting her wrist when she reached the head. She moved her hand in pace with his, and when he sped up, so did she.

"Emma...that's -- ahhhhhh," he said, hips jerking suddenly

She turned her head and kissed him, swallowing his moans, keeping her fingers tight around his cock. As he pulsed in her hand, she felt the heat coiling at the base of her spine snap, catching her by surprise. She cried out and Killian's free arm darted up to her middle, holding her while she convulsed, riding out the waves of her orgasm like a ship in a storm.

Finally, she eased her hand off him and slumped in his arms.

"I don't want to move ever again," she mumbled.

Killian's laugh was a rumble deep in his chest. He pressed kisses to her temple, trailed them down her cheeks and along her jaw.

"We could stay here," he suggested. "Perhaps go another round, once you've recovered."

Emma was about to agree when the sound of the front door slamming brought her back to her senses.

"Mom?" she heard Ian call. "Dad?"

Emma sighed. "We should get out. We're supposed to meet my parents for dinner in an hour anyway."

"Mom? Dad?" Ian said again, closer this time.

"We're in the bath," Killian called back.

"What are you -- oh. Oh geez. Um, I need to shower. I'm sort of full of mud."

Emma knew "sort of" really meant head-to-toe covered.

"Use the shower in the basement bathroom. Tell Henry to get in there after you. And there had better not be any mud anywhere in this house when I get outta here."

She heard Ian snort, and then, faintly, "So we've got plenty of time then."

She was about to shout back a retort, but instead decided just to forget to remind him that the downstairs bathroom was out of towels.

-

It was pouring rain again, and Emma drove slowly, not particularly enjoying the poor visibility. Half of her was listening to Henry and Ian's whispered conversation in the backseat.

"Did you ask Ava yet?" Ian said.

"No," Henry answered, and Emma could _feel_ him glancing warily at her, so she put extra effort into feigning ignorance.

"Henry -- the Valentine's Day dance is _next week_! You need to ask her _now_!"

"Shhh!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma read Killian's body language, and knew he was listening too.

"You have to ask her!" Ian repeated.

"But she's in high school."

"That's even better!"

"I don't know...what if she says no."

"She won't. She likes you."

"How do _you_ know?"

"Because I know."

"This...this isn't like some future thing you're not supposed to be telling me, is it?"

Emma strained, listening, waiting for Ian's response. Ava was a nice girl. She was a year older than Henry, but Henry was pretty mature for his age, so maybe that would be good for him.

"I'm just saying that Ava is really cool and I know she likes you because she likes you in the future and I'm not saying you guys are dating but it would be totally cool if you _were_ dating because she owns the ice cream shop in town and it's literally _the best_ ice cream -- "

"I think you should do it," Emma said, cutting off Ian's babbling.

"Me too," Killian added.

"I don't know -- " Henry started.

"Why not?" Emma asked. "I like Ava. _You_ like Ava. Ava apparently likes _you_."

"Yea, as a _friend_. Not as a...as a..." Henry was blushing, flustered.

"So what?" Emma shrugged. "Go as friends. Just because it's a Valentine's Day Dance doesn't mean you have to kiss her or anything."

There was silence from the backseat.

"I mean...unless you _want_ to kiss her."

Ian laughed.

" _Mom_!" Henry spluttered.

Emma pulled up to a stop sign and craned around in her seat. "I know where she lives. We could drop by there right now and you could ask her -- "

"NO!" Henry shouted. "Just -- I'll ask her, alright? On Monday."

"Hey," she said, more gently. She reached one arm into the backseat and put her hand on Henry's knee. "I'm only joking. If you don't want to ask her, don't ask her."

"I _do_ want to ask her," Henry said, shifting nervously. "I'm just worried she won't like me anymore because she's in high school now. How am I supposed to impress her when I'm still only in 8th grade?"

"If you want my advice -- " Killian started, but Emma clamped a hand over his mouth. She felt his smirk against her palm.

"You don't have to impress her. You don't have to impress anyone. Just be yourself, kid. Remember? Just be Henry."

Henry smiled, and Emma returned it. As she turned back around and continued driving, she heard Ian whisper, "Trust me, she likes you. Like, _really_ likes you. Like-likes you."

Emma felt a flurry of excitement: her kid was going to go on his first date.

-

Emma pulled up to the curb in front of Granny's and the four of them piled out and raced through the rain giggling to the diner. Killian playfully grabbed the back of Ian's jacket and tugged, slowing him down so Emma could duck beneath the overhang first.

"Dad, you're such a cheater!" Ian said.

"Ladies first is good form," Killian chided. "Always remember that, lad."

Ian nodded as if he'd heard it a million times, but he was smiling to himself. He and Henry went inside first. Emma followed, but paused in the doorway and turned back, eyes searching the dark street. A chill crept up her spine.

"Emma, love," Killian said. "What is it?"

"I...I don't know," she said slowly, squinting, trying to see past the rain. "I feel like I'm being watched."

"We _are_ being watched," Killian said.

"What?" Emma said, looking at him quickly.

"Zelena. I've felt her watching us too."

Emma's warm feeling from earlier evaporate. She felt unnerved. "We need to be more careful when we're outside of the protection spells," she said quietly.

"Aye. She's likely looking for every weakness in our defenses. And when she finds it, she'll attack," he said.

"Do you think anyone else has noticed?"

"I've no doubt they have," he said. Emma nodded to herself, and Killian reached out and squeezed her arm bracingly. "Come inside. Tonight we're still safe. Let's enjoy it."

Emma dragged her eyes from the dark street and smiled at him. "Ok," she said, and let Killian lead her inside by the hand.

 _Fuck_ Zelena, and _fuck_ whatever she had planned.

-

Over dinner, Killian filled them in on the latest news concerning the bar. It seemed the dwarves were a little impatient for it to be opened, now that it was finished. Killian, however, wanted to wait until the Friday before Valentine's Day to open -- not only because it was likely a night when the people of Storybrooke would be out and about and eager to try out a new spot, but because he wanted the extra week to hone his bartending skills.

"How's bartending with the hook?" David asked, gesturing at Killian's left arm with a French fry.

Killian raised the appendage in question and shrugged. "Fine, if a little slow. Truly the most difficult part is opening bottles. I haven't quite found a dignified way to do it yet."

"I keep telling you to get a bottle opener attachment for your brace," Ian said.

"Har-bloody-har," Killian said, and tweaked Ian's ear.

Emma had baby Neal in her lap. He was leaned back in the crook of her arm, sedately drinking milk from a bottle. Every time she looked down at him she saw his big, greenish eyes peering contentedly back up at her. His plump cheeks and round little face made her think he would probably take after their mother in terms of looks, which meant that he and Emma would probably share a resemblance.

"You know, why don't you get a wall-mounted bottle opener?" Mary Margaret asked. "You could have it behind the counter. I think that's what they do at The Rabbit Hole."

Everyone turned surprised stares on her.

"What?" she said defensively.

Emma recovered first. "No, I just...I didn't know they existed. Or that you knew so much about The Rabbit Hole."

"Just because I'm a teacher I can't know _one thing_ about bars?"

"Yea, but... _The Rabbit Hole_?"

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Hey, look!" Ian said, turning the phone in his hand around so the screen faced outwards. "You can get a wall-mounted bottle opener that looks like a skull!"

Everyone at the table leaned in for a better look.

Emma's hand darted to her pocket. "That's my phone!"

"I know," Ian said.

"When did you even take that?"

"Just now."

Neal started giggling.

"See?" Ian said. "Uncle Neal approves."

"Yea, well, from what I understand he's worse than you are in the future, so of course he approves," Emma said dryly.

Ian just grinned cheekily, while David and Mary Margaret made twin strained noises in their throats.

-

Perhaps it was because Emma was feeling so light and happy and relaxed that, as soon as she began dreaming that night, she found her vision suddenly as easy to manipulate as pressing rewind on the VCR.

It started out as it usually did, with her kneeling in a pool of her own blood while Zelena held a screaming baby Ian and cackled. This time, however, she felt strangely aware of being in two places at once -- lying in bed, asleep, and inside the vision, and she _pulled_.

The vision jumped backwards, jarring her, and what she saw then jolted her awake so hard she tumbled from bed, landing painfully on her hands and knees. She scrambled to her feet immediately and ran for the bathroom.

She could hear Killian on her heels, asking her what was wrong, but she didn't stop or slow down. She flicked on the bathroom lights, expecting to see white tile and beige walls, but all she saw was blood -- pooling on the floor, splattered against the walls...

She stumbled to the toilet, dropped to her knees, and threw up. 

When her head cleared, she became aware of Killian's hand rubbing circles on her back. She was in his arms, crying into his shirt.

 "Maybe...maybe you should stop, Swan," Killian had said, voice cracking as he held her shaking body.

"I don't _know_ how to make them stop!" she sobbed. "My only option is to take control of them. I _have_ to see. I need to know how to stop it."

"Emma, this is worse than before. You can't do this to yourself -- or to the baby. Remember what the doctor said about stress?"

"Let me try it one more time. I know I can do it."

"I know you can too, Emma. That's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried about the strain you're putting on your mind and body, and -- "

"The baby, I know, you already said that."

Killian's jaw had clenched so hard Emma thought he would crack a few teeth.

"Emma -- " he started, voice hard.

"Killian, _please_. You didn't see it. You didn't _feel_ it. Oh my God, Killian, she just -- " That image -- blood, tearing, pain -- nearly overwhelmed her again. Emma fell forward, against his chest, the words spilling from her lips in a rush. " _She just ripped him out_."

Killian stiffened, but before he could speak, Ian did.

"Mom," he said quietly, and Emma pulled away from Killian to see him standing in the doorway, Henry at his shoulder.

Emma turned away, wiping at her face. She didn't want the boys to see her like this. Henry turned and disappeared down the hallway, but Ian remained.

"Go back to bed," Killian said.

Ian took a step forward, into the bathroom.

" _Ian_ \-- "

"I know how you can control your vision," he said.

Emma's hands fisted in Killian's t-shirt.

"How?" she asked hoarsely, desperately.

Ian licked his lips nervously. He sank slowly to his knees on the tile floor next to them. "There's something called the Sands of Morpheus -- "

"Morpheus? As in the God of Dreams?" Killian asked.

"Yea. The Sand lets you control your dreams. And since you're seeing your vision in your dreams..."

"I can use the Sand to control the vision," Emma finished for him. "I can use it to see exactly what I want to see."

"Yea."

"Alright, lad," Killian said, resigned. "Where do we get this Sand?"

She could feel how tense he was, still reeling from seeing her so distraught and the shock of what she had told him.

"Aunt Regina has some in her vault," Ian said. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips, but Ian quickly stifled it.

"And how would you know a thing like that, eh?"

"Um," Ian said, and his hand flitted up to scratch the scar along his temple.

Emma snorted, and regretted it immediately as it brought the taste of bile back into her throat.

"You didn't get that thing falling off the roof, did you?" she asked.

"Ah, well...no," Ian said, ducking his head guiltily. "I did fall off the roof though. Only I broke my collar bone, not my head."

"And how did you -- " Killian started.

"I can't tell you," Ian interrupted. "I wish I could...but I can't."

Emma looked at him sadly. Broken bones, mysterious head scars, time travel, poison daggers...she wished he could have had a less dangerous life.

As if reading her thoughts, Ian shrugged and said, "Don't worry. You've got a lot of time before that happens. And everything works out okay. I promise."

Henry returned, carrying four steaming mugs of hot chocolate, two in each hand. They were overflowing with whipped cream and cinnamon.

"I brought hot chocolate," he said uncertainly.

"That sounds perfect, Henry, thank you," she said. Killian stood and helped Emma lumber back to her feet.

"Let's take those downstairs, shall we?" Killian said. "I'd wager none of us feel up for returning to bed."

"We could watch Harry Potter," Ian suggested. "That always makes me feel better."

"I don't know," Emma said. "Your dad only just finished The Sorcerer's Stone. Do you think he's ready for the movies?"

Ian and Henry traded skeptical looks.

"There's only one way to find out," Henry said. "This will be the test of whether he's a true fan or not."

-

The four of them snuggled up on the couch together beneath a mound of blankets and put the Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone DVD on. Ian and Henry kept glancing at Killian and then each other as they watched the movie, and when it ended they quizzed him on the similarities and differences between the movie and the book and how he felt about them.

"Can we just sleep here tonight?" Henry asked, yawning. "I don't feel like going all the way back upstairs."

"Um, seeing as how your brother is already asleep, I'd say that's fine," Emma answered.

"And Killian."

"Hm?"

"Killian's asleep too."

"Amateurs," Emma scoffed, and Henry grinned.

-

The next morning Emma and Killian dropped the boys off at her parents' loft and then went directly to Regina's house.

"Yes, I have some Sand," Regina said, hands on her hips, one perfect eyebrow arching. "Why do you need it?"

"Well," Emma said calmly, "I was thinking of starting a Zen garden, and -- "

"I _meant_ , whose dream world are you trying to enter?"

"My own."

"Are you having nightmares?"

Emma glanced at Killian, who nodded encouragingly and lifted his hand to rest against the small of her back. Emma sighed, and told Regina about her vision.

"I wish you would have told me sooner," Regina said. "I could have spared you some sleepless nights."

"Yea, I...I know."

Regina waved her hand and a small purple vial appeared in her palm. She held it out, and Emma took it.

"How do I use it?" Emma asked, rolling the vial between her fingers, squinting to peer at the fine-grained sand inside.

"Sprinkle it in your eyes and it will take you directly to your dream world."

"In my _eyes_? Seriously? Why is magic so disgusting all the time?"

Killian made a sound that might have been a strangled laugh.

"Magic isn't _disgusting_ ," Regina answered tersely, then she sniffed imperiously and added, "You just don't appreciate it's finer points."

"Right," Emma said, barely containing an eye-roll.

Regina walked them to the door, and as she shoved Emma and Killian over the threshold, she said, "And make sure you're lying down. The Sand will put you to sleep instantly."

-

Emma felt that if Regina knew about her vision, then her parents should too. She was actually surprised by how well they handled it.

"Ok," said Mary Margaret briskly. "When you're ready to use the Sand, your father and I would like to be there."

David nodded in agreement.

"Really?" Emma asked. "That's it? No 'you should have told us' or 'you shouldn't have dealt with this on your own' or anything?"

"You thought it was for the best. Everyone's already on edge and you didn't want to worry us any more than we already were," Mary Margaret said. "And besides, you weren't alone. You had Killian."

Killian's hand was back, settling around her waist.

"Ok," Emma said. "I just..."

She was about to say she needed a few days, but then she remembered the feeling of being watched she'd had outside the bar the night before, and the threat hanging over all their heads.

"You know what? Let's do it right now."

"Are you sure, love?" Killian asked, eyes searching hers.

"Yes," Emma said firmly. "I'm tired of being afraid of all the possibilities. I just want to know what's going to happen so we can figure out how to stop it."

-

Emma was lying on her parents bed, Killian sitting beside her. He was holding her hand tightly.

"I'll watch over you while you sleep," he said quietly. "Whatever happens in your dream, know that I'm right here, okay, love?"

She smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said, smiling back.  

Her parents were at the foot of the bed, looking tense and worried.

"You can do this, Emma," her mom said.

Emma nodded. "Ok," she said, turning to Killian. "Will you, um, do the sand thing? I don't think I can sprinkle it in my own eyes."

He chuckled. "Of course."

She stared at the ceiling, holding her eyes wide. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Killian's hand appeared, hovering over her face. His fingers moved, and Emma felt something gritty fall into her eyes. On instinct, she squeezed them shut and immediately felt the heavy pull of sleep.

Right before she passed out she heard a thump from the other room, and Henry yelling, "Ian!"

-

Emma was somewhere warm and dark. It was...cozy. Faintly, above her, she heard a thump-thump that reminded her of a heartbeat.

"Where are we?"

Startled, Emma whipped around to see Ian.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I don't know," Ian said, looking around curiously. "Where even _is_ here?"

"Good question...I thought we'd be in my dream. I guess it didn't work."

Disappointment filled her.

"It worked," Ian said, and he sounded amused.

"What?"

"The sand worked. We're in _my_ dream."

"Your dream?"

"Yea -- well, baby me's dream. I'm inside you so I guess you used the sand on me too."

Emma blinked, then asked slowly, "Where are we?"

"Mom. _C'mon_."

The baby was dreaming of the only thing he'd ever experienced -- _her womb_.

There were voices. They sounded far away, at first, but grew closer, and Emma recognized Killian's voice. He was singing.

"Mm. I know that song," Ian said, head cocked, listening.

Another voice joined the first, and it took her a moment to realize it was her own.

"Ok. This is weird," she said, giving herself a little shake.

"It is," Ian agreed. "Can we leave?"

"Uh, how do we...?"

"Think about _your_ dream. Take us there."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and held it. She pictured her vision, but tried to imagine _before_ , and when she opened her eyes her and Ian were at the farm, standing in the muddy field in front of the barn.

"You ready?" Ian asked.

She nodded, and together they walked to the barn. The doors were closed. Her and Ian each grabbed one and heaved them open, then slipped inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she saw Zelena. She was standing at the center of the compass carved into the dirt floor of the barn with her back to them.

Emma paused, unsure how to proceed, but then Zelena spoke.

"There you are," Zelena drawled over her shoulder. "I've been expecting you."

She turned, and in her arms was a baby -- but it wasn't Emma and Killian's baby.

"Rowan!" Ian gasped.

"But of course," Zelena giggled. She sauntered closer, chin held high, peering down her nose at them. "And how's _your_ little one? Is he all ready for his big day?"

Zelena gestured, and three of the four points of the compass flared to life with a different colored flame -- one bright red, one gold, and one a deep orange. The final one, the one that had once held baby Neal, was empty.

Zelena waved her hand again, this time at Emma's stomach, and Emma felt a sharp pain tear through her abdomen. She screamed, and as she did the dream shifted. Emma felt tugged forwards, and then backwards. She saw a brief glimpse of something else, something that was definitely not her dream. There was Ian as a teenager, standing before the open time portal. Behind him, in the doorway of the barn, lying on the ground, were two --

Emma woke up, sucking in a deep, rattling breath.

"Emma!"

Killian wasn't there. It was her mom leaning over her, cupping her face.

"Are you okay?"

"Where's Killian?" Emma asked, sitting up, pushing her mom's hands away.

"He's in the living room," David said. "As soon as you fell asleep Ian collapsed."

Emma lurched to her feet and stumbled into the other room.

Ian was on the floor, sitting up with Killian's help. Henry was kneeling next to him, holding baby Neal who was babbling, clearly distressed.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I was just in the dream with mom," Ian said.

"What did you see?" Killian asked, brows knit, looking between Emma and Ian's faces.

"She wants Rowan," Ian growled, hands balling into fists.

"We already knew that," David said. "Did you see anything else?"

Emma crossed her hands tightly over her chest. "She wants to create another time travel spell," she said. "And she wants to use our baby to do it."

She locked eyes with Killian from across the room, and she felt the promise between them like an electric current.

 _Fuck_ Zelena.

-

They stayed at the loft again that night, more for her parents' reassurance than for her own. Henry and Ian shared Emma's old bed while Emma and Killian spooned on the twin. After about half an hour of listening to Henry and Ian whispering, Killian finally growled, "Go to bed, you two," which promptly cut off the boys' conversation.

Emma snuggled back into Killian, feeling him solid against her back, letting his warmth envelope her. Just as she was dropping off to sleep, she remembered that brief flash she'd seen right at the end -- the flash from Ian's dream.

She got an uneasy, creeping feeling that she knew why the her and Killian from the future hadn't come for Ian.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, wow. So, the length of this chapter got really out of hand. I sort of got caught up writing the conversations and writing the future scene at the beginning. 
> 
> Anyway, this is the "shit gets real" chapter.

_8 years in the future_

Killian was running late. He'd allowed himself to be coaxed into having a late afternoon nap on the bed with Emma and the three little ones -- well, Ian wasn't so little anymore at 8-years-old, but Jackie at nearly 3 and sweet Evie at 4 months still qualified. When he'd opened his eyes to check the time it was to discover that he should have been out the door and on his way to work a half hour prior, so he carefully extricated himself from a pile of his sleeping, sprawling children, patted the dog Bonny's head consolingly when she whuffled in annoyance as he removed his feet, which she'd been using as a pillow, from beneath her, and raced to the shower.

When he returned some ten minutes later he found the bed empty except for Emma and Evie, both still sleeping. Evie was lying along Emma's chest, one hand twined in Emma's long, golden hair, and the other arm curled around the red octopus One-Eyed Jim, which Ian very generously allowed her to nap with.

He watched them while he dressed, throwing on jeans and a shirt and vest that he hoped were clean. Nine years and three children hadn't changed her much -- at least not that Killian noticed. Emma may grumble about stretch marks and the effects of gravity on certain body parts, but when he looked at her all he saw was Emma, _his_ Emma. She was still as beautiful as the first day he laid eyes on her. He didn't even mind the way she'd groan and roll her eyes when he told her so, because he also saw the way his words brought a blush to her cheeks.

Watching her with their children only made him love her more. He loved catching her dancing in the nursery with Evie cradled to her chest, humming one of the songs Killian sang to all the babes both in the womb and in the cradle; or baking in the kitchen with Jackie, both of them giggling, hands and cheeks powdered with flour; or playing hockey in the yard with Ian, being his goalie for as long as he wanted to practice shots, urging him to keep practicing, keep trying, not to give up just because he wasn't good at something the first time -- a lesson Killian knew would have resounding effects throughout the boy's whole life.

Emma was...Emma was _magnificent_.

"I can feel you looking at me," Emma said, without opening her eyes.

"Just admiring the view," Killian said, and she smiled _his_ smile.

"When will you be home tonight?" she asked.

"Late, love. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Killian," she said, smiling again. "It's _your_ bar and it's a Friday. You need to be there."

"Aye," he said quietly. "Seeing you and the baby like this just makes me want to get back in bed and spend the rest of the night beneath the blankets with you."

"We'll be here when you get back. Besides, it's boys' night at the bar. Ian would be disappointed if you didn't go."

Every Friday Killian brought Ian to the bar at 6 with him to "work" -- mostly the boy just helped with mundane tasks, but occasionally Killian or Henry supervised him filling an order, usually for Leroy or another well-known face. When Henry's shift ended at 9 -- early enough for him to spend the evening with Ava -- he took Ian with him and dropped him at home.

Killian leaned in to kiss Emma.

"Mmm," she said, giggling, breaking their kiss. "Why do you smell like baby bubble bath?"

"I couldn't find my shampoo so I had to use Jackie's," he said.

Emma snorted, likely at the thought of him using soap that had a princess and a pink pony on the label. Killian kissed her again, silencing her sniggers.

Finally, Emma pushed him away. "C'mon, you've gotta go. You're already late."

"Speaking of, have you seen my jacket?" he asked. He could have sworn he'd left his jacket in the bedroom somewhere.

"I have. It walked outta here about five minutes after you did."

"Did it leave on its own, or was it...assisted?"

"I believe it was in the hands of two very small pirates."

"Ah," he said. That explained Ian and Jackie's absence. "I'll be right back."

He brushed his fingers along the baby's cheeks and dropped a kiss atop her dark hair, cherishing the tiny, contented sigh she gave as he did so, before standing up and walking from the room.

"Send Ian up here to get changed, will you? His clothes are on the dresser."

"I shall do my best."

On a good day, trying to get Ian to change into clothes that were publicly presentable was like trying to sail the Jolly Roger across dry land -- bloody impossible. Half the time Emma or Killian had to sneak into his room at night while he was sleeping to change him out of a pair of underwear he'd been wearing for more days than either of them cared to count.

On the stairs, Killian heard the voices of his eldest two scamps, clearly having an argument.

"Go faster," Jackie demanded.

"I can't," Ian replied.

"Go _faster_!"

"I. Can't." Ian said, a little annoyed. "I'm not an _actual_ horse, Jacks -- hey, don't kick me! I'm gonna throw you off!"

There were some snorts, followed by giggles. Killian reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the front room to find Ian on his hands and knees, making angry horse noises and pretending to buck, and Jackie straddling his back with her legs wrapped around his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as she swayed from side to side. She was wearing Killian's leather jacket, comically large on her toddler-sized body. Killian was surprised she'd managed to push the sleeves up enough to free her hands.

The dog Bonny was on the couch, lying with her head resting on her paws but her bright brown eyes open and watching her two charges. Her tail wagged up and down when she saw Killian, thumping faintly on the cushions, but otherwise she made no move.

"What's all this?" Killian asked.

Ian and Jackie both turned to face him. They looked almost nothing alike. Ian clearly took after Killian, while Jackie more closely resembled her mother with a tiny bit of Killian thrown in. The only feature they shared was their blonde hair and freckles -- although Jackie's hair was darker, and while she was only 3 she already had more freckles than her brother.

"We're playing pirates," Ian informed him.

"I don't understand where the horse comes in," he said, faintly amused. For them, playing pirates usually meant using chairs, pillows, and blankets to transform the entire front room into some sort of elaborate fort they claimed was a ship.

" _Well_ ," Ian said patiently. "Her majesty the pirate princess wishes to travel from her ship to her palace. She can't very well walk, now can she?"

He had the uncanny ability to imitate Killian's accent and speech patterns when he chose to; Killian could never decide whether to be proud or offended.

"My horse won't go faster," Jackie announced dramatically, and flapped her feet at Ian's side for emphasis. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"I'm taking you to the king," Ian said, crawling slowly towards Killian while Jackie tugged on his shirt, trying to steer him. "He's going to punish you for being so mean to your horse."

"Dad!" Jackie complained, staring up at him imploringly with big green eyes. Looking at her, it was easy to imagine what Emma must have looked like as a child.

"He's right, lass," Killian said seriously. "A princess must be kind to _all_ her subjects, including the animals."

Jackie looked like she wanted to disagree, but Killian reached down and plucked her from Ian's back. Freed, Ian flopped over and sprawled on the floor.

"That's better," he sighed. "You're heavy."

"Am not!" Jackie said. She stretched in Killian's arms, extending her legs as far as she could, trying to poke Ian in the face with her toes.

" _And_ your feet smell," Ian laughed, pushing them away.

Jackie growled wordlessly and stretched further. This time, Ian tickled her feet. Jackie squeaked, drawing her legs up fast as lightning and wrapping them around Killian's waist.

"Ian, lad, you need to get up and get dressed. We're already late," he said, and jerked his head towards the stairs. "C'mon, let's go."

Grinning, Ian grabbed onto Killian's ankle and Killian dragged him across the floor and then slowly, painstakingly up the stairs and down the hallway.

"Help me, Swan," Killian whined as he entered their bedroom. "I've been set upon by brigands."

Ian and Jackie both giggled.

"I don't know," Emma said skeptically. "They're pretty cute. They can't be _that_ dangerous."

Bonny jogged past and leapt onto the bed, settling against Emma's side and resting her head lightly on the baby's legs. Emma reached out and buried her fingers in the thick fur at Bonny's neck.

"Ian, your clothes are on the dresser," Emma said. "If you want to go with your dad you need to get dressed like right now."

Ian jumped up, grabbed the pile of clothes Emma had laid out for him, and started changing.

"Stop," Killian said.

"Huh?" Ian asked, pausing in the act of pulling off his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans at the same time.

"Go to your bedroom and put on a pair of fresh underwear. I'm certain you've been wearing the same ones for three days now."

"Yea, because I like the Batman ones!"

"Ian, lad, that's vile."

"No one at the bar is going to let you serve them if you have smelly buns," Emma added.

" _My buns aren't smelly_ ," Ian huffed, but he stalked off to do as they asked, hands clamped protectively over his rear end.

Killian sat on the bed, Jackie still in his arms.

"I wanna come too," Jackie said.

Killian sighed inwardly. He'd take her with if he wasn't afraid some lout would step on her or knock her down.

"You can work at the bar with your brothers when you can see over the counter, lass," Killian said, which is the same excuse he offered her every Friday.

Somehow Jackie had already perfected Emma's skeptical glare. Killian floundered for a moment, trying to come up with an additional excuse that wasn't a blatant lie, when Emma jumped in to bail him out.

"Why don't you go pick out which cupcakes you want to make?" she suggested.

"Cupcakes?" Jackie asked, perking up.

"Cupcakes," Emma said seriously. "I left the boxes on the kitchen table. Go pick out which flavor you want."

"Ok!"

Jackie hopped off his lap and trotted from the room, taking Killian's jacket with her. He watched her go, a grin tugging at his lips. She was a fierce little thing. She had the same fire as Ian, only hers was closer to the surface. She wanted to do everything her brother did, she just also wanted to do it _better_ \-- which, bless Ian's sunny nature, only amused him.

Killian heard their voices in the hallway.

"Hey, make the strawberry ones!" Ian said.

"No!" Jackie replied.

"You're mean."

"Butthead!"

Killian looked at Emma, and they both struggled to keep straight faces as Ian entered their room.

"How do I look?" Ian asked, striding up to them and spreading his arms. Emma had bought him black jeans, a dark blue dress shirt with miniscule white polka-dots, and a black vest, so that he looked like a mini-Killian, but with blonde hair.

"You look handsome," Emma said, and Ian preened beneath her proud gaze.

"What's this?" Killian asked, and tugged aside Ian's shirt collar to reveal black squiggles drawn on his chest.

"Chest hair!" Ian chirped. "Now I _really_ look just like you."

Killian blinked. "Is that...is that Sharpie?"

"Yep!"

"Ian, lad, just...go put on your shoes," Killian said, burying his face in one hand.

Ian ran from the room.

"I thought you hid the Sharpies," Killian said from between his fingers.

"I did," Emma said. "In the same place I hid your hook."

They stared at each other a moment before Killian jumped up from the bed and raced after Ian.

* * *

_Now_

Killian finished buttoning his shirt (one of the grayish-purple ones with a slightly darker floral pattern) and turned to face the bed, arms spread wide.

"How about this one?" he asked.

Ian and Henry looked at him, then at each other, then back at him.

"Nah," they said together.

Killian sighed and started unbuttoning the shirt one-handed. It was one he wore often, so the button-holes were already well-worn, and getting the shirt undone took mere seconds.

"Try this one next," Ian said, pulling another shirt (a plain dark blue one this time) from the stack and offering it to him.

Killian eased out of the purple one and exchanged it for the one in Ian's hand.

"Have you decided on a name for the bar yet?" he asked Henry as he put on the new shirt.

"No," Henry said, fidgeting beneath Ian and Killian's gazes.

"I don't mean to rush you, lad, but the bar does open tonight."

"Yea, I know, but _someone_ won't give me any hints," he said, and looked accusingly at Ian.

"I _told_ you that's cheating," Ian growled back. "If I tell you what the name is then _you_ didn't pick it, did you?"

"I don't want you to _tell_ me; I want you to give me a _hint_."

"I _did_ give you a hint! I said as long as it doesn't have the word "swan" in it you'll be fine -- "

"What's wrong with swans?" Killian asked.

"Mom would _hate_ it," Ian said.

Henry licked his lips. "What if I pick the wrong name and it changes the future?"

"Henry," Killian interrupted, and threw in a smile so Henry would know Killian wasn't mocking him. "I hardly think that's worth worrying over. Our actions change the future every day." Killian didn't miss the significant glances Ian and Henry exchanged. "Why don't you tell me what your ideas are, so far?"

Henry took a deep breath. "The Port Hole. The Scurvy Dog. The Rusty Anchor. The Black Mast -- "

"I'm sensing a pattern here," Killian said.

"Well, yea. It _has_ to be pirate-themed."

"I agree," Killian said. "What else have you thought up?"

"The Crimson Cutlass. The Busty Barmaid -- "

Ian laughed.

Killian smirked. "Alas, I don't think your mother would approve of that one."

"Yea," Ian said. "She'd probably rather it be named 'Seven Swans a Swimming' than 'The Busty Barmaid'."

The three of them laughed.

"Ok, ok," Henry said, smiling sheepishly. "Um, The Drunken Sailor? The Crow's Nest -- "

"That one," Killian said quickly.

_The Crow's Nest._

It struck a chord in Killian's mind. He remembered sitting in the crow's nest atop the Jolly Roger with Ian, talking and watching the sunset. Ian had said it was his favorite place on the ship.

"The Crow's Nest?" Henry asked.

Killian caught Ian's eye as he said, "Aye. I like it," and saw the way the corners of the boy's lips quirked in a smile.

"Really? Like, you actually want to name the bar that?" Henry insisted.

"I do. It's perfect."

"Pirate-y but not too pirate-y," Ian said. "And no mention of swans."

"The Crow's Nest it is," Killian said. "Thank you, Henry."

"You're welcome," Henry said happily.

"Alright. How about this shirt?" Killian spread his arms again.

"No," Henry and Ian said again.

Killian dropped his arms to his sides. "I don't understand. What's wrong with this one? Or the other _eight_ I've already tried on, for that matter?" he asked.

Ian shrugged. "Nothing, really. Mom just said to keep you distracted while she ran an errand."

"I -- what?"

Ian and Henry were both grinning at him. Killian heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then Emma appeared in the doorway, breathless.

"Sorry that took me so long," she said.

"It's okay. We managed," Henry said.

"Did you guys decide on a shirt?"

"Yea," Ian said. "The new blue paisley one you just bought him."

He reached across the bed and pulled the shirt in question from the pile.

"I like that one," Emma said approvingly.

"That was the first shirt I tried on!" Killian spluttered.

"How about a vest?" Emma continued, ignoring Killian.

"The leather one," Henry said.

"Good choice."

"Is someone going to tell me what's going on?" Killian demanded, confused and frustrated.

He felt his anger rising for no reason. He'd been strangely anxious all day, hovering between excitement about the bar opening coupled with nerves over the same thing, as well as worry that perhaps now, with Zelena looming over them threatening to steal their unborn child to power a time-travel spell, was a poor time to be celebrating _anything_.

"Hey," Emma said soothingly, crossing the room quickly to stand before him and laying her hands on his chest, over his heart. "I'm sorry. I told them to keep you distracted."

"Yes, they informed me," Killian grumbled, although he felt his irritation eroding beneath Emma's warm regard. "And what exactly was the reason for this distraction?"

Emma smiled. " I have a surprise for you," she said, and held out a small, wrapped package.

He eyed it curiously, but made no move to take it. He couldn't explain why, but he felt embarrassed.

"A gift? Emma, love, you already bought me new shirts. I don't need anything else."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Gifts aren't about _needing_. And anyway, this _is_ actually something you need." 

Feeling his cheeks heat slightly, Killian took the package and used his hook to carefully unwrap it. Inside was a tri-fold wallet, like the one David carried.

He glanced up from the gift to grin at Emma.

"Truly?" he asked.

"Look on the other side," Emma said.

Killian let the paper fall to the floor and flipped the wallet over in his hands. On what he supposed was the front, burnt neatly into the black leather, was a monogram -- a K and a J emblazoned over two crossed anchors.

"Are the anchors okay?" Emma asked. "I wasn't sure if I should do those or a ship's wheel or something else -- "

Killian silenced her with a hard kiss, hand snaking around her waist to pull her close.

There was a chorus of catcalls from the bed, followed by, "Get a room!"

Killian broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Emma's.

"It's amazing," he said. "I love it."

Emma beamed. "Good, I'm glad. It's for your whole adapting to the modern world thing. Guys here carry their money and driver's licenses around in a wallet instead of a satchel. It's not going to fit your dubloons though, sorry."

Killian opened his mouth, both to refute her insinuation that there was something wrong with his satchel and to argue that he knew perfectly well how to use paper money, but Ian spoke first.

"What's wrong with dad's satchel?" he asked. " _Indiana Jones_ has a satchel."

The name and the reverence with which Ian said it caught Killian's ear. "Who's Indiana Jones?" he asked with interest.

"Hopefully a distant relation," Ian answered. "I've been begging you to look into it for _years_."

"Indiana Jones is _not_ related to us," Emma said.

Ian crossed his arms over his chest. "Not that we know of," he said under his breath.

"I still don't understand who this Indiana Jones is," Killian said. It always seemed as if, just when he thought he'd caught up on pop culture references, Emma and the boys threw another new one his way.

"He's an adventurer," Henry said.

"He's like Rick and Evy from The Mummy but one person," Ian clarified.

"I've never thought of it that way," Henry said. "That's actually pretty perfect."

"Oh my God, _right_?"

Shaking his head, Killian turned back to the wallet and thumbed it open. His driver's license was already inside in a clear plastic pocket, and in another pocket were --

"The pictures of the babe," he said, grinning as he removed them. "Wait, these photos were in my jacket. When did you take them?"

"About an hour ago," Emma said, biting her lip to hide a smile. "Ian got them for me."

Killian glanced sideways at Ian. "You're making me regret teaching you how to pickpocket -- and I haven't even done it yet."

"Trust me, dad, I was good at it even before you stepped in," he said cheekily.

"I've no doubt," Killian muttered. He closed the wallet reverently and tucked it away in his jeans. "Now, remind me what you two decided I'm wearing tonight?"

Ian handed him the blue paisley shirt and Henry handed him the leather vest.

"Alright, now _you two_ need to go get dressed," Emma said, shooing the boys towards the door. "I just got you guys some new clothes, so wear something nice, okay? Oh, and Henry? Not what you're wearing tomorrow. You don't want to smell like a bar for your date with Ava."

"It's not a date," Henry said, cheeks flaming red. "It's a dance."

"Fine, your dance," Emma said, and Henry left.

"It's a date," Ian said smugly over his shoulder before following Henry from the room.

Emma turned back to help Killian unbutton his shirt.

"Thank you for the gift, love," he said, fingers ghosting along her arm.

"You're welcome," she said as she ran her hands up his chest and slid the shirt off his shoulders. "It's also kind of a 'congratulations on the bar I'm really proud of you' gift."

"That's all I want, Emma. To make you and the boys proud."

"We are."

His trailed his hand down to rest against her belly.

"How are you feeling?"

She sighed heavily. "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Well, between knowing that Zelena wants our baby and knowing I'm now halfway to term, I kinda feel like crap -- "

"Nothing's going to happen to the baby," Killian said firmly.

He _would_ protect Emma, and he _would_ protect their child. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Emma's forehead in a long kiss.

Suddenly, he felt something bump his palm.

He drew back. "Emma...did you do that?"

Her eyes were wide and excited. "Did you feel that?" she asked in a rush, and quickly pressed both of her hands over his. He felt the little pattering against his fingers again.

"Is that...?"

" _That's the baby_!"

Killian stared at his hand in awe. _Feeling_ the life growing inside Emma was entirely different than just knowing it was there. He dropped to one knee, pushed Emma's shirt up over her belly, and kissed her, just to the left of her belly button, where he'd felt the baby move.

"Hello, little one," he whispered. "I'm your father, and I love you more than anything." He thought he felt movement against his lips, but he couldn't be certain.

Emma's arms went around his shoulders, and her fingers threaded in his hair at the nape of his neck.

"He loves you, too," she said softly.

* * *

Ian drew up a sign to tape inside the front window of the bar that read "The Crow's Nest" in big bold letters. It was accompanied by a sketch of a main mast and crow's nest, complete with a black bird looking through a spyglass.

"Looks great, kid," Emma praised. Ian smiled brightly at the compliment.

"Hey," he said suddenly, "Can I help behind the bar tonight?"

"I don't know..."

"Dad always lets me."

"Oh, he does, does he?" Emma asked, and turned to Killian.

"Now, Swan," he said, holding up his hand pleadingly. "You can't be angry with me for something I technically haven't done yet."

Emma sighed. "Can we please agree that we're not going to let the boys drink until they're actually legally able to?"

"Dad doesn't let me _drink_. But, you know, I know how to pour a beer and pass it over the bar."

"Not tonight, lad," Killian said, rubbing behind his ear and eyeing Emma. "Perhaps another time."

"Some other time," Emma agreed. "Just...let me get used to the idea of my 13-year-old behind a bar counter first, okay?"

"Henry started when he was in high school," Ian said. "If that helps."

"Not really," Emma replied. "But keep talking."

"Ah, well, um...he was just bussing tables, you know. For spending money. So he could take Ava -- OW!"

Ian doubled over, clutching his ribs where Henry had elbowed him hard.

"Oh my _God_ , are your elbows made of steel? That _hurt_ ," Ian said, straightening. "Next time just _tell_ me to stop, or like, come up with a safe word."

Emma's parents chose that moment to arrive. David swept into the bar and promptly deposited Neal into Henry's arms.

"Here," he said, and put one hand on Henry's shoulder and the other on Ian's. "I'll give you both $20 if you can get Neal to walk by the end of the night."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes.

Henry and Ian grinned at each other. "Ok," they said, and carried Neal off to the open space at the back of the bar.

"Are you sure you want to do that, mate?" Killian asked.

"It's alright. Mary Margaret and I agreed -- "

"No, I meant offering Ian and Henry $20 each to get your son walking. I'm fairly certain that, combined, those two can accomplish anything they apply themselves to."

"Yea," Emma agreed. "He's sort of right. You can kiss your money goodbye."

"I don't know. I think they've met their match for stubborness with Neal. He just _won't_ walk. And honestly, twenty bucks is _nothing_. I'd make both of those boys King of the Enchanted Forest if -- "

"Hey, grandpa!"

Emma, Killian, David, and Mary Margaret whirled around. Neal was standing with Ian behind him, holding his little hands steady.

"Watch!" Henry called, then he turned back to Neal and held his arms out. "Ok, come here, Neal!"

Ian let go of Neal's hands, and Neal took two toddling steps towards Henry before he stopped. Everyone held their breath. Then Neal giggled and continued, stumbling all the way into Henry's arms.

"I don't believe it," David breathed as Henry and Ian carried Neal triumphantly back. "How did you do that?"

"You guys are too easy on him," Ian said, and scratched the scar on his temple. He caught Emma watching him and quickly dropped his hand.

"You'd better pay up, mate," Killian said.

-

Will, Marco, and the dwarves were the next to turn up. Will joined Killian behind the bar while the others took seats at the counter. Regina and Robin arrived shortly after that. Roland immediately ran to join Henry and Ian, leading Neal around the bar by the hand. At around 8 o'clock, the first actual guests began trickling in, and Emma's parents, the boys, Robin, and Regina, finally settled in at the counter, leaving the rest of the space free for patrons.

Killian greeted everyone that came through the door, but Will was the ambassador, welcoming each customer in such a way that they quickened their step inside, eagerly snatching up the remaining tables.

By 9 o'clock the bar was standing-room only, a revelation which caused Marco and the dwarves to gleefully purchase a round of shots for everyone gathered, to a cascade of cheering and applause.

Will leaned in close to Killian to whisper. "I don't think we have that many shot glasses, mate."

"Erm," Killian said, casting about as if hoping more might actually appear.

"I've got it," Emma said, and with a flourish made two dozen shot glasses appear in a neat row along the counter, ready and waiting to be filled.

"Thank you, love," Killian said, and leaned across the bar to kiss her.

Emma knew bartending with the hook wasn't easy, but Killian made it _look_ easy. Robin and Will had schooled Killian for _days_ on proper bartending (being a frequent visitor to taverns didn't necessarily mean someone could run one efficiently), and she and the boys had quizzed him endlessly on mixed drinks, until they could name one and Killian could immediately reach for the bottles he needed without pause.

Killian fielded orders right and left, pulled drafts from the tap, poured drinks over ice and popped little umbrellas or fruit speared on plastic swords into them, cracked open bottles one-handed with the wall-mounted bottle opener behind the counter (they'd found the skull-shaped on Ian had pointed out). 

And he did it all as if he'd been a bartender his whole life.

He had charisma, which Emma thought, more than anything, would lead to the success of the bar. He acknowledged tips in the jar with a grin and a wink, bantered with the men, was a gracious gentlemen with the women. Overall, everyone seemed happy.

Especially Killian himself. He kept finding small moments to appear behind her to snake his arm around her waist, press a kiss to her cheek, and whisper, "I love you," in her ear. Emma would catch his hand, press it against her stomach and wait, eager for him to feel the baby move again.

"It seems our little lad is sleeping," Killian said, after about the tenth time.

"He needs his rest. He's got a long night of break dancing in my tummy ahead of him."

Killian chuckled, kissed her cheek again, and then darted behind the bar to attend to fresh customers.

Belle was the last to arrive.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, stepping inside timidly.

"Not at all! Come on in!" Killian called over the heads of those crowding the counter.

Emma waved to catch Belle's attention and then patted the stool next to her. Belle took it and Killian sauntered up to them, grinning jauntily.

"What are we having?" Killian asked.

"Shirley Temples?" Emma asked Belle.

"Nope," Will said, cutting in. "None of that. I've got something special for you two ladies."

He slid two drinks across the counter at Emma and Belle.

"Uh," Emma said, catching hers. "You know we're both pregnant, right?"

"I hadn't noticed," Will said, deadpan.

Emma snorted. "Alright. What's in here?" she asked as she lifted the glass to her nose and sniffed. It smelled light and fruity, and it set her mouth watering.

Will cocked his head thoughtfully. "Mango juice, club soda, mint leaves, lime juice, lime wedges..."

"Is that it?"

"That's it. No alcohol."

Killian moved away, attention caught by a customer at the other end of the bar.

Emma took a hesitant sip of her drink. It was bubbly and citrusy on her tongue. "Ok, this is actually really good."

"Oh my gosh, _yea_ ," Belle agreed. "Thank you, Will."

"Don't sound so surprised, Sheriff," Will said, smiling cheekily.

"Sorry, I just -- " she hesitated. No one had ever _told_ her that Will had stopped drinking, but there had been a sharp decline in drunk and disorderly calls. And she hadn't found him passed out in any public places lately. Not to mention he had showed up at the farm every morning they'd searched the woods, looking sleepy but sober. Or that he was here now, cheerful and focused, totally engaged with his work. He had completely turned himself around, and he actually appeared sort of _happy_.

"I guess I just got used to you being the town drunk," Emma continued. "I never stopped to think that you could change, or that maybe I -- _we_ \-- could help you change. I'm sorry."

Will shrugged. "No need to apologize. From what I understand, this town keeps you rather busy, even when it's not being threatened by dark wizards and such. It wasn't your job to rescue a drunken fool from himself."

"It _is_ , actually," Emma said. "I'm not just the Sheriff, I'm the Savior. I'm supposed to bring back this town's happy endings. That _includes_ drunken fools. I should have helped you instead of just throwing you in lockup."

"You did help me though. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yea, but, that was Ian -- "

" _And?_ Ian's your son, isn't he? You raised him. I'd say that means you had a role in my rescuing. And I'm very grateful for that. To Ian, and to you and Killian."

Emma nodded to herself, she glanced along the counter, to where Ian and Henry were making faces to make Neal laugh, then dropped her eyes to where her hand was wrapped around the drink Will had made her.

"Maybe you should come over for dinner sometime," she said. She saw Killian's sidelong glance as he casually eavesdropped from a little further down the bar. Their eyes met briefly before Killian nodded minutely, then dropped his gaze back down the beer he was pouring from the tap.

"Um..." Will said, looking over his shoulder at Killian, who pretended not to notice.

"C'mon," Emma pressed. "We've got plenty of room. Killian and I are both decent at cooking -- at least, you know, we haven't killed anyone yet. And besides that, my kid calls you 'uncle'...so I guess that means you're part of the family."

"No, I don't think -- "

There was a loud bang as Killian slammed a glass down on the counter. Everyone nearby jumped and the bar became dead silent except for Killian's dangerous whisper.

"Will Scarlet," he said, glaring. "I don't know what happened in your past that caused you so much pain, but I _do_ know that wallowing in sorrow won't change a thing. This is your second chance, mate, and you need to make the best of it. You _will_ come to our house for dinner and you _will_ enjoy it."

Will's cheeks colored, but he didn't break away from Killian's gaze.

"I'd listen to him if I were you," Ian said solemnly, sliding up to the bar in between Emma and Belle. "That's his 'you're grounded forever' voice."

"A-alright, mate. Alright. I'll come over for dinner."

"Promise?" Emma asked lightly, trying to ease the tension. Around them, the noise level rose and the crowd picked their conversations back up.

"I promise. Truthfully..." Will began, clearly uncomfortable but determined to say what he had on his mind. "Truthfully me nights get a little lonely sometimes, and I still go to the bar and pretend I'm drinking, just for the company."

"Will," Emma said, heart breaking a little at how sad his voice was. She looked helplessly to Killian and then back at Will.

"What I'm trying to say is...I'd be happy to be invited into your home."

Killian nodded sharply, then turned back around and picked up the glass he had been filling from the tap and continued filling it. Ian followed him down the bar and hopped onto a stool near him, leaning across the counter to watch. Emma saw Killian glance up at Ian and smile, the tense moment already forgotten.

"So, um, Belle," Will said, quickly recovering, "I suppose congratulations are in order. When's the happy due date?"

"Well, actually," Belle said, smiling shyly. "I just found out today. It's August 29th."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small black-and-white picture, flipping it around to show Will.

"Aw, they look like two little peanuts!" Will exclaimed.

"Belle, why didn't you tell me you were going to get an ultrasound?" Emma asked. "I could have gone with you. Or Killian."

Belle shrugged. "It's alright. I figured I'd better get used to handling things on my own here, since I'm alone now."

Will looked stunned by her words, and Emma remembered their brief romance.

"Belle, you're not alone," Emma said, placing her hand on Belle's wrist and squeezing it reassuringly. "We're going to be there with you."

"I don't want to put the burden of helping me on you," Belle said, shaking her head. "You'll have your own baby to take care of."

"Who? This kid?" Emma asked, jerking her head towards Ian. "No problem. He's a handful now but from what I saw he's a pretty happy baby. Plus, there's me, you, and Killian; that's three adults and three babies, so one adult per baby. Piece of cake."

"Are...are you certain?"

"Belle," Emma said firmly. "I was there with you when you saw your kids' future, and I told you then that Killian and I are here for you. I meant it then and I mean it now. Okay?"

Belle bit her lip and nodded. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Will hastily pulled a towel from somewhere behind the bar and passed it to her.

"Here," he said. "It's clean."

Belle took it and dabbed at her eyes.

"And if you ever -- um, I know we're not...um, anymore, but -- " Will stuttered.

"Thank you, Will," Belle said. "I know what you're trying to say. And thank you. It means a lot to me just knowing that you're there."

Will nodded and moved off. Emma noticed his ears were bright red.

"I know something that will cheer you up even more," Emma said.

"And what's that?" Belle said, snuffling.

"Robin just went to warm up a bottle for Rowan. I bet if you ask him he'd be more than happy to let you feed her."

Belle gave a watery laugh, but she was smiling.

-

Later, Emma found Ian alone, and asked him quietly, "Hey, you know Belle and Will...do they ever, um, rekindle their romance?"

"No," said Ian, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh," Emma said, disappointed.

"Don't worry. Belle finds someone. Well, they sort of find each other. You'll see."

Intrigued, Emma asked, "Is it...someone we know?"

Ian smiled knowingly. "Yea. Well, sort of. He's not in Storybrooke yet. I don't know when he gets here, though. Soon, I guess..." he trailed off and shrugged.

"And...what about Will? Does he find someone?"

"No," Ian said, looking down and frowning. "Not yet, at least. But he's got us," Ian said, raising his eyes to Emma's. "We're his family."

Emma cupped Ian's cheeks in her hands.

"He's a really good guy, mom. I promise."

"I know," she said. "Thank you for helping him."

"Of course," he replied brightly. "That's what Sheriffs do, right? They help people. I gotta practice."

-

The bar emptied out around midnight. Will good-naturedly ushered some stragglers through the door, urging them to come back the following night, then offered to walk Belle home. She took his arm and they were off into the chilly February air. Emma's parents were still there, easing a sleeping Neal into his carrier. Regina was doing the same with Rowan while Robin stood by with Roland, passed out in his dad's arms. Henry and Ian were straightening all the bar stools.

"That was a pretty good first night," Emma said, sliding up next to Killian and bumping him with her hip.

"Not bad," he said modestly, although he was grinning to himself.

"There's probably gonna be a big crowd tomorrow, too, for Valentine's Day."

"I hope -- "

"Mom," Ian said suddenly, and the edge to his tone drew Emma around instantly. He was standing completely still, staring towards the front of the bar, mouth set in a firm line, breathing hard through his nose. Emma could see the faint tremble in his hands.

She followed his gaze, and saw, through the parted blinds, Zelena standing outside in the street.

Killian saw too. " _Zelena_ ," he said, and although his voice was quiet, it carried, sending ripples through the room, until everyone still gathered in the bar was silent and staring as well.

Emma reached her hand out and found Killian's waiting.

"Ok, everyone stay calm," Regina said. "She's here to frighten us."

"Henry, Ian," Robin said. "Help me get Roland comfortable."

Henry and Ian tossed their coats onto the floor beneath one of the tables and helped Robin lay Roland down carefully upon them. Robin removed his own coat and laid it over his son, then lifted Rowan's carrier from the table and placed it beside Roland.

"Good idea," David said, and carried Neal's car seat over and set it next to Rowan's.

"What are we going to do? We don't have weapons," Mary Margaret whispered urgently.

"We have magic," Emma said. She balled her hands into fists, and started gathering her magic, feeling it well up inside her in a rush. She had to be careful not to draw on the baby's magic this time.

"Exactly," Regina said. "We have magic. My god, do I have to do _everything_?"

She waved her hand, and Robin and Mary Margaret were suddenly holding bows. Another wave of her hand and David had his sword.

"Sorry, pirate," she said ruefully to Killian. "I don't know where you keep your cutlass."

"I've got it," Emma said. A burst of white smoke deposited a cutlass in both Killian and Henry's hands. Henry looked to her in surprise, and Emma winked.

"Alright, let's go see what this witch wants," Emma said, and led the way outside. She could feel Killian at her shoulder, right behind her, supporting her, guarding her back, as he always was.

"Stay close, but stay behind us," Emma said to Ian and Henry over her shoulder. She saw them both nod.

Emma squared her shoulders and stepped out into the street. Killian, her parents, Robin, and Regina fanned out to either side. Henry and Ian stood just behind her and Killian.

"Finally," Zelena drawled. "I've been waiting out here for ages."

"You could have just come in -- oh wait, you can't," Regina sneered.

Zelena rolled her eyes. Close up, Emma could see not only how _old_ Zelena looked, but how warped her appearance was. She no longer stood completely tall and straight, but had a slightly stooped, twisted stance. Her hair was more gray than red now, and even her green skin had a grayish pallor. Her face was heavily etched with lines, and her mouth was pulled down by a permanent frown. The years she'd spent in Oz and in Camelot plotting her revenge had taken a physical toll on the witch's body.

Emma felt almost bad for her.

Until she remembered what Zelena planned on doing with her and Killian's baby, that is.

"What do you want?" Emma demanded.

"Oh, I think you _know_ what I want."

"You're not taking my daughter," Robin said.

" _Our_ daughter," Zelena corrected with a snarl. "And by the way, how could you name her after a _tree_?"

"We know what you're planning on doing," Regina said. "Another time travel spell? Really, Zelena? Is that the only trick you've got?"

"It didn't work last time, and it won't work this time," Mary Margaret added. "We won't let you take the ingredients."

Emma knew that by "ingredients" she meant baby Ian. As for the others, they could be _anything_. Emma wished she had paid more attention in her dream; if she had seen what else Zelena was going to use for her spell, she could stop her from getting them. Maybe she could go back in...

"I only need _four_ , darling," Zelena said, a smiling slyly. "And I've already got one."

Emma felt a chill creep through her. "Which one?" she asked.

"Why, your son's blood, of course. Blood he shed courageously in defense of his mother's life. How precious. And you left it _all over_ the barn. It was just sitting there, _waiting_ for me."

She strolled forward. Emma tensed but stood her ground.

"And speaking of your son," Zelena said, eyes flickering briefly over Emma's shoulder, "how _is_ the baby? He's my ticket out of here, as I'm certain you've already guessed. You simply _must_ keep him safe for me."

Zelena reached out towards Emma's stomach casually, but Killian's hand darted out. The blade of his cutlass was laid atop Zelena's wrist.

"Don't. Touch. Her." He growled. "Or our child. Unless you want to lose that hand."

Killian turned his wrist, applying pressure, and a spasm of pain crossed Zelena's face. A thin stream of blood ran across the back of her hand and over her fingers. Her eyes fell to where Ian's hospital bracelet was visible on Killian's arm.

"That's right," Killian said softly. His voice was cold steel. "Your magic can't hurt me. And that's all you've got, isn't it? Magic. Without it, you're nothing."

"Get out of here, Zelena," Emma said. Killian withdrew his cutlass and thrust it through his belt, then slipped his hand into Emma's. She laced her fingers through his and gripped tightly.

Zelena's lip curled, and she tugged her hand back. She turned icy eyes on Ian, and said, "Have you told mummy and daddy your little secret?"

"Leave him alone," David said, stepping up close on Emma's other side, opposite Killian.

"I don't _have_ any secrets," Ian growled.

"Oh, but don't you? Have you told them what I did to them in the future? Did you tell them how it's _all your fault_?"

" _Shut up_!" he hissed. Emma felt magic seeping from him in roiling waves.

"Oooh!" Zelena squealed. "So you _haven't_ told them!"

"Leave him alone!" Killian barked. "He's just a boy. Leave him out of your games."

"But don't you want to know all about how I had Mordred kill you?"

Emma felt both Killian and her father go rigid on either side of her.

The image she had seen in Ian's dream -- the image of two bodies lying on the floor in the doorway of the barn -- burned brightly in her memory. Those bodies...they had been Emma's and Killian's.

"No!" Ian said. The magic around him lashed out like lightning. Zelena deflected the attack but had to take several stumbling steps backwards. She looked slightly dazed, but recovered quickly.

"Such _anger_ ," she said. "You know I'm right."

Killian pulled his hand from hers and reached out, placing it firmly in the center of Ian's chest, holding him there.

" _They're not dead_!" Ian thundered, leaning into Killian's hand.

"Are you _certain?_ "

"They can't be," Ian said, shaking his head. "They'd _never_ let you win."

Zelena's eyes lit up excitedly. "I'm _already_ winning."

As she said it, Emma felt a ripple in the protection spell.

She looked quickly to Ian.

"Mordred!" Ian said, and spun around to race back inside the bar.

"I'll go with him," Killian said, and ran after Ian.

* * *

Killian chased Ian. He passed Rowan and Neal sleeping in their carriers on the floor beside Roland, all three somehow peaceful despite the scene outside.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Robin and Henry take up positions guarding the babies and Roland, bow and sword raised. Killian felt a momentary swell of pride at the sight of Henry holding his sword at the ready, feet set in a defensive stance. And then his attention was consumed by his pursuit of Ian. The boy raced along, dodging chairs and tables, and plunged through the back door.

Killian was on his heels, and emerged into the parking lot a split second after Ian and skidded to a stop beside him, only to find no one there. The parking lot was deserted.

He and Ian stood shoulder to shoulder for a moment, panting, staring around in the darkness.

"I guess we were wrong," Killian said. He turned to Ian, intending to take him back inside, when he saw a figure leap from the shadows alongside the building, just to the right of the door.

"GET DOWN!" he shouted.

He reached for his cutlass, but his fingers groped empty air. His cutlass had disappeared from his side only to reappear in Ian's hand, just in time for Ian to raise the weapon and block a sweeping downward stroke.

Killian saw Ian's arm buckle, likely due to the weight of Mordred's sword and the strength behind it, but then Ian managed to disengage the blades and separate himself from Mordred.

Killian stepped out of the way. He had no choice: he had no blade of his own with which to intervene, and he couldn't risk distracting Ian and presenting Mordred with an opening.

If Ian could hold off Mordred for a another minute or two, someone else might arrive. _Emma_ might arrive. He was afraid to shout for help; he was afraid to speak or even move. He stood there frozen, as helpless as he had been before in the barn as he watched his son face down this boy Mordred.

To his relief, Ian took up a guard position, and when Mordred attacked, he defended but didn't attack back. He kept himself firmly planted between the back door and Mordred.

_Brave, brilliant boy._

Killian knew Ian had a talent for disarming. If Ian was patient, he could find an opportunity to disarm Mordred, and then Killian could jump in, and --

And it happened.

Ian turned his wrist, twisting his blade, and Mordred's sword was knocked from his hand and to the side, but before Killian could dart in, Ian lunged forward and plunged his hand into Mordred's chest, right through the armor.

"IAN!" Killian shouted.

Ian wrenched his hand free, and Modred's heart came with it, glowing like a jewel.

Mordred's gasp turned into a gurgle and then a hoarse scream as Ian's fingers tightened. Killian heard the telltale, glass-like cracking that meant the heart would soon be dust in Ian's palm

"Ian, stop!" Killian said.

" _He killed you_ ," Ian said without looking at him. "He killed you and mom."

"You said we weren't dead," Killian said, struggling to remain calm.

"If you're alive then why didn't you come for me?" Killian heard Ian's voice break.

"I didn't kill them!" Mordred choked out.

"You're lying!" Ian shouted. Crimson fire bloomed in his hand, engulfing the heart he held, and Mordred shrieked.

"IAN! STOP!" Killian said. "This isn't you!"

Tears streaked down Ian's cheeks. Killian saw his grimace, saw his fear and his pain and his rage.

He could have stopped it, he could have taken the heart from Ian, but he knew...he knew this had to be Ian's choice. Ian was meeting his darkness for the first time, and he had to be the one to make the decision to turn away from it, else it would sit there his entire life, just below the surface, haunting him.

"I didn't kill your parents!" Mordred said again.

The fire in Ian's hand darkened dangerously. It was nearly black. Mordred was flailing on the ground, hands scrabbling at his breastplate, trying to stop an agony he couldn't possible stop.

"I want you to forgive him," Killian said loudly. "Even if he killed us, I want you to forgive him."

"What? Why?"

Ian turned his head slightly, and Killian knew he had his full attention.

"You're not a murderer. I don't want you to _be_ a murderer. Revenge is not the answer. Trust me. It may feel like the right thing now, but it's not. You _know_ it's not."

He saw Ian's grip on Mordred's heart relax just the slightest bit.

"You're a good lad," Killian continued. "And you'll grow to be a good man -- a better man than I could ever be."

Ian bit his lip, brow furrowing.

"Listen to me Ian, please. I'm your father."

Killian saw Ian's jaw clench.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Ian," he said quietly. "I love you."

The fire vanished from Ian's hand.

Killian held still, waiting. Finally, Ian turned and held his hand out, offering him Mordred's heart.

Killian took it carefully, then squatted down next to Mordred and shoved it back into his chest. Mordred flinched and rolled onto his side, coughing.

Killian looked back up at Ian. He saw the emotions warring on the boy's face: anger, uncertainty. He turned back to Mordred.

"I want you to tell us the truth," he said. "Did you kill us?"

Mordred was silent, panting, eyes closed as he caught his breath.

"Answer me, boy. Did you kill me and Emma?"

A grin spread slowly across Mordred's face, and Killian felt his blood freeze in his veins.

Mordred's eyes flew open. " _Yes_! I killed you!"

The manic gleam in his eyes drove Killian back to his feet.

" _No_ ," Ian moaned pitifully. He stumbled backwards until he hit the wall and slumped there.

Mordred started laughing.

Killian shook his head in denial. "It doesn't matter," he said. He took two quick steps to stand before Ian, then grabbed his shoulders and shook him urgently. "Do you understand me? _It doesn't matter_."

"But you're dead."

"Maybe. Maybe not," he said firmly. Ian's eyes widened. "We can't know for certain what lies in the future."

"I don't want to go home if you and mom aren't there. I don't want to be alone," he said, and in his voice Killian heard just how young he was. He may have travelled through time and faced down a witch and poisoned daggers, but he was still just a boy.

"You'll never be alone. Your mother and I will always be with you. Right here."

He tapped Ian in the center of his chest, over his heart.

"You always say that," Ian said quietly.

"It's true. Our love made you, lad. You'll carry that around with you forever."

"But -- "

"No arguments," he said firmly. "We'll get you back to the future because that's where you need to be. That's where you belong. What will your sister do without her big brother, eh?"

Ian's mouth dropped open in shock, and Killian just grinned. He pulled Ian into a hug, hand curling around his head, holding it against his shoulder. He kissed the top of Ian's hair.

"I love you, lad. Always remember that."

"How very touching, Captain," said a voice behind Killian.

Pain tore through him suddenly, spreading through his chest like wildfire. He knew what was happening -- having his heart ripped out was not an unfamiliar sensation for him.

He pushed Ian away, towards the back door. It was all he could manage before his heart left his body and he felt strength flee his limbs.

"Mm," Zelena said. "A heart _filled_ with love for a son. That should do quite nicely. You _really_ are making this too easy."

Killian fell to his knees. Everything -- all his senses -- suddenly felt duller.

"Dad!" Ian snarled.

Killian looked up to see Ian lunge past, straight for Zelena.

"No!" Killian said weakly, but it was too late.

"Not so fast, darling," Zelena said. She waved her hand and Ian was engulfed in a cloud of green smoke. When it cleared, he was gone.

"IAN!" Killian shouted.

" _See you soon_ ," Zelena said, and disappeared in another cloud of green smoke.

"Killian!" Emma burst through the back door. She dropped to her knees beside him. "Killian, what happened?"

David and Regina arrived as well, and fell upon Mordred, pinning him to the ground by his shoulders.

"What happened back here?" David asked, looking wildly around the dark parking lot.

"She took him," Killian said dully. His voice sounded lifeless even to his own ears.

"What?" Emma asked.

Killian lifted his eyes to Emma's.

"Ian's gone. Zelena took him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, don't freak out. Just take a second and think about how Killian's usually always right.


	45. Chapter 45

Emma leaned forward in her chair and glared.

Inside his cell, Mordred glowered back.

"Where's Ian?" she said.

Mordred was as still and silent as he had been for the last hour.

Behind Emma loomed Killian.

"Answer her," he said. "Tell us where our son is." His anger was nearly palpable, and Emma couldn't comprehend how Mordred met his gaze unflinchingly. When Mordred continued to ignore them, Killian stepped forward and grasped the iron bars as if he meant to tear them from the wall.

"TELL US WHERE OUR SON IS," he thundered.

"Killian," Emma said quietly.

He turned his head sharply and their eyes met. Killian's blazed -- with anger, with fear, and with _shame_.

"Hey," said  a gentle voice behind them. It was Mary Margaret. "Why don't you two take a break? Get some tea or hot chocolate. I just boiled water."

"Yea," David added. "We can take over."

Wordlessly, her and Killian stood -- Killian taking her hand to help ease her out of the chair and to her feet -- and withdrew to the privacy of the break room.

"I failed, Emma," Killian said as soon as Emma had closed the door. "That's twice I've failed to protect Ian. What sort of father can't protect his own son?"

He was breathing hard, fists clenching in spasms, and Emma could tell by the sound of his voice that the emotions churning inside him had reached their peak. She put a hand on his arm to settle him, and rested her other one against his chest. There should have been a heartbeat against her palm, but instead there was nothing, and that sent a prickle of dread through her.

Though their heart was separated into two halves, they were still connected. Emma had felt Killian's heart being ripped out as surely as if Zelena had put her hand through Emma's chest as well. With Killian's half missing, it was like there was a void inside her; a gaping emptiness.

Everything appeared duller, less vibrant -- except for her terror, that is. And Killian seemed to feel it too.

Part of her wondered if the fact that they shared a heart and her half was still intact was the reason Killian was able to feel _anything_ as strongly as he seemed to be feeling right now, or if it was just evidence of the depth of his love for their son.

"It's not your fault," she said quietly, and when he tried to look away she caught his face with both hands and held it. "Killian. _It's not your fault_."

His eyes fluttered shut and his eyebrows drew together. "How can you not blame me for losing him?" he asked.

She pulled his forehead against hers. "Because I know you. And I know you did everything you could."

"I wasn't good enough," he mumbled.

"It's okay."

"It's _far_ from okay, Swan."

"No, it _is_ okay. It's okay because he's still alive. He's alive, and we're going to find him."

He raised his hand and laid it over one of hers, nodded without opening his eyes.

"I lost your heart too, Emma. I'm sorry."

" _Our_ heart," she said. "And don't worry; we're gonna get that back too."

He was silent, but his thumb was tracing back and forth over her knuckles.

"I just...I wasn't careful," he said, and his fingers tightened abruptly over hers. "I thought because of the protection spell...I should have kept my guard up. I didn't think -- "

He was rambling. Emma felt him careening towards the edge again, and kissed him, holding him in that moment, keeping him from slipping back into despair. He hesitated only a moment before dropping his arms and wrapping them around her waist, pulling her firmly against him.

He deepened their kiss, tongue chasing hers, teeth grazing her lips, and Emma let him take what he needed in order to keep from drowning in his own anguish. She let him walk her backwards until they hit the door, she let him crush their bodies together, she let him slip his hand up the back of her sweater, his palm cool against her flushed skin.

Emma's heartbeat sped up, and she knew Killian felt it hammering against his own chest because he stilled suddenly. He dropped his head to her shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Welcome back," she said. Her fingers found the short, soft hairs at his nape.

"Thank you," he said, tucking his face into her neck.

"We'll get him back, Killian," she murmured.

"I know, Swan. I just want him back _now_ ," he said. "I can't _bear_ to think what Zelena might be doing -- "

"Nothing," she said. "She's not doing anything to him. She's not going to hurt him."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because despite how twisted and fucked up she is, she's a mother now. So she knows that if she hurts our kid, we'll kill her."

"I still very well might," he growled, but Emma knew that, in this case, he was all bark and no bite. Ian wanted to give Rowan a chance to have a relationship with her mother, and Emma and Killian were going to help Ian give her that chance, no matter how difficult it was going to be for them to pardon someone who'd caused them so much pain.

Emma made them both some tea with the water from the electric kettle her mother had heated, and led Killian to the couch. They sat down carefully, cradling their hot mugs, waiting for them to cool off enough to drink. Emma drew her legs up and rested them in Killian's lap.

"You know," she said delicately, "it's probably about time we put a protection spell on your actual heart so no one can take it. Again. For, like, the thousandth time."

To her relief, he grinned.

"It _is_ becoming just a tad tedious," he said. His good humor evaporated almost immediately, however. The smile fled his face as he said, "He's out there alone, Emma. He just found out that you and I are likely dead in the future and now he's out there alone."

Emma dropped both her hands and her eyes to her lap. "Do you think Mordred and Zelena were telling the truth?"

"I don't know...I don't _want_ to believe them. I want to believe they're lying, or that perhaps they're mistaken, but...Emma, I saw the look on Ian's face; _he_ believes them, and _he_ was there when it happened."

"Killian...I don't want him to grow up without parents like we did," Emma said.

Killian set his mug down and took her hand. "I don't either," he said softly. "But if Ian's _here_ \-- in our time -- then perhaps that means we can change the future. We need to keep fighting, Emma. For Ian and for Jackie. We can't let Zelena win."

Suddenly, Emma remembered Ian's words: _They can't be dead. They'd never let you win_.

Emma felt hope swell in her chest. There was no way her and Killian could be dead. They _had_ to be out there somewhere, still fighting. She was about to say as much when the door opened and David's head appeared in the opening.

"Hey," he said hesitantly, obviously unsure whether he should interrupt or leave. "Regina's here. Do you guys, um...do you need a minute?"

Emma and Killian exchanged looks.

"We're ready," Emma said.

They stood and put their mugs on the counter (maybe they'd get a chance to drink them later), and turned to the door but found David blocking their way.

"I just want to say that every hero has a bad day," he said, and he was looking at Killian. "Sometimes the bad guys win a battle, but that doesn't mean the fight is over. You're not a failure because you made a mistake."

Killian swallowed hard and nodded.

"Thank you, David."

David nodded in acknowledgement. "I also want to say that Mary Margaret and I don't think you should believe Zelena. She probably just wants you to think that you're dead because she thinks she can rattle you."

"Well, she's sort of right," Emma said flippantly.

"No, she's _not_. And you're not going to let her shake your confidence. You're stronger than she is. You can beat her."

Killian's fingers brushed against her back. She looked at him, saw the reassurance in his eyes, and said, "Okay."

David smiled. "That's my girl," he said. He threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Now, let's go get some answers outta this kid."

-

Regina was standing in front of Mordred's cell, arms crossed over her chest, one foot tapping impatiently.

"How's Robin?" Emma asked.

Regina didn't turn around. It seemed she was locked in her own staring contest with Mordred. "He's angry," she said. "Not that I can blame him. He wanted to stay behind with Rowan and Roland. He and the Merry Men are at the house."

Emma nodded. "And Henry?"

"I convinced him that it was in his best interest to stay at home as well."

"Thanks," Emma said. She needed to know Henry was somewhere safe so she could focus on Zelena, and right now, surrounded by Robin and the Merry Men inside the protection charm placed on Regina's house, he was the safest he could be.

"I didn't do it just for _you_ ," Regina said over her shoulder.

"I know. But still. Thank you."

"I have this, too," Regina said, and turned. In her hands was Ian's jacket, the one he'd laid down on the floor for Roland to sleep on.

Emma grabbed it and hugged it to her chest. It smelled like him. He used Killian's soap, but Old Spice bodywash was a scent Emma had started associating with Ian too, so she breathed it in deeply, and for a split second it was like he was standing right next to her.

She felt that now-familiar tug in her mind that meant she was about to have a vision, and she opened herself to it, hoping to catch a glimpse of where Ian was and what he was doing, but it was only an image of him from the bar that night, leaning over the counter to watch Killian pour a beer from the tap.

Killian's hand at the small of her back returned her to reality. Disappointed, she lowered the jacket from her face, but kept it held against her chest. She thought maybe she should pass Killian the jacket, but she didn't want to let it go, and she knew Killian would understand.

Regina was actually looking at her with sympathy. Emma didn't _want_ her sympathy, however, so she said, "We can't get anything out of him," and jerked her chin towards Mordred.

"Do you want me to torture him?" Regina asked.

"Yes, but don't," Emma said.

Regina turned back towards the cell. "Having your heart ripped out wasn't _nearly_ punishment enough for the likes of you," she said. "You're lucky it was the pirate and his son who did it, not me; _I_ wouldn't have been kind enough to put it back."

Emma gripped Ian's jacket tighter. She didn't blame the kid for what he'd done; nor was she upset with him. She understood his reaction perfectly, and she was grateful Killian had been there to remind him who he was. The need to have him in her arms became more urgent.

"I bet it still aches," Regina continued. "Even when a heart is returned, that agonizing pain doesn't quite disappear right away, now does it?"

Her eyes glimmered as she leaned in.

"How does the pain in your chest compare to the pain of being left behind by Zelena?"

Emma saw Mordred's eyes flicker downwards briefly -- the first reaction they'd seen out of him, and then he surprised them even further by speaking.

"Perhaps she left me behind on purpose," he said. Emma was surprised by how young his voice sounded. It was a harsh reminder that, despite his size and his manic grin and the murderous gleam in his eyes, he was Ian's age.

Regina snorted. "Face it: Zelena abandoned you just like your father abandoned you."

Mordred's face became a mask of calm once more, but Regina looked triumphant. She swept from the room, gesturing for the rest of them to follow. They gathered in the office and closed the door.

"Ok, what's going on? What was that thing about his father abandoning him?" Emma asked.

Regina shrugged. "Just a guess. But now that we know Zelena left him behind, we know how to break him."

"Um, you don't mean like physically, right?" Emma said.

"No, not physically," Regina said. "But, emotionally...yes, a little."

The room was silent except for everyone shifting uncomfortably.

"Are we all... _okay_ with this?" Mary Margaret asked, looking at each of them in turn.

"He's a kid, but...he's got the answers we need," Emma said. "Does anyone have any better ideas? And before you say 'searching the woods' the answer's no. We don't have the time and we already know Zelena's not hiding there anyway."

"What about a locator spell?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Those take time to brew, and they don't work if the person's location is cloaked, which Zelena's hideout definitely is."

"I still think we need to keep in mind the possibility that he's here on purpose," David said. "I mean...why would she leave someone behind who can lead us right to her?"

"Because she _wants_ us to find her," Killian said. "Ian is bait. If she wanted to kill him she wouldn't have bothered kidnapping him; she would have just done it on the spot."

"What if she _does_ want to kill him, she just wants to do it...slowly?" Mary Margaret asked, and threw Emma and Killian an apologetic look.

Emma felt sick at the thought.

Killian sighed. "Despite the wrench Ian has thrown into her plans, Zelena wants to hurt Emma and I more than she wants to hurt him. Killing him tonight in front of us would have..." here his voice became quiet, "it would have _destroyed_ us. Not only would our pain have been supremely satisfying to her, it would have left her essentially free to carry out her plan. With him alive, she knows we'll only keep fighting, so she must have a use for him."

"The pirate's right. Whatever she has planned with Ian likely has to do with getting the final ingredient -- "

"The _baby's_ the final ingredient," Emma cut in, and both her hands lifted protectively to her belly. Beside her, she felt Killian tense. "Even if she gets whatever she's using for wisdom, she can't do anything until Ian's born. And he's not due until July."

Regina raised one eyebrow and said, "An accelerated pregnancy is not exactly _uncommon_ around here."

Emma shook her head. "You have _no idea_ how long it took me to find that spell, and how hard it was to get right. And _I_ was the Dark One. That book and all the materials I used to create that potion are destroyed. She'll never be able to recreate it."

Regina shrugged like she still didn't think it was an impossibility.

"Maybe you two should leave town," Mary Margaret suggested.

"What? No, not without Ian," Emma said. "And -- actually, no, not at all. I'm the only one with light magic. I'm not running away and leaving the town helpless against her."

"Emma's right," Killian said. "Running might be the easy way, but it's not the right way. And besides, if we leave, Zelena may set her sights on another baby powerful enough to fuel her spell."

"Holy shit, I never even thought of that," Emma said, and she felt like she'd been kicked in the chest. "Belle's babies...we don't know that _they're_ not the product of True Love too."

Regina made a sound of disgusted disagreement.

"Ok, c'mon," Emma said. "I know a lot happened between Belle and Gold -- and that Gold's a _dick_ \-- but they were True Loves once."

"And even if the babes aren't the product of True Love, Rumplestiltskin was still the Dark One," Killian said. "We can't rule out the possibility that Belle and her children may also be in danger."

"I guess it's a good thing Ian put a protection spell on Gold's shop, then," Emma said, unable to keep the slight smugness from her tone.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe we should consider removing your baby's magic then."

"What?" Emma asked quickly.

"If you took the baby's magic away, that might make him less appealing to Zelena and -- "

"No," Emma said without hesitation. "We're not taking his magic away."

Killian's arm went around her waist and he pulled her hard against his side. "His magic is a part of him. We're not going to change that."

"Besides," Mary Margaret added. "Taking away their baby's magic might save Emma, but it might also shift Zelena's focus to Belle."

"And don't think for a minute that the baby not having magic would stop her wanting to get her revenge anyway. She'd still go after me, no matter what."

"Then you'd have _two_ angry mothers -- "

"Okay, okay. I get it." Regina said. "The baby keeps his magic and we keep protecting the baby. Now we just need to keep Zelena from getting whatever this next ingredient is."

"The only thing left is wisdom, right?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Aye," Killian said roughly. His arm was still around Emma. She could feel his fingers digging into her hip. "She said Ian's blood for courage; my heart for love; we know the baby is innocence, so that just leaves wisdom."

"Ok," David said. "We just need to make only really dumb decisions from now on."

Emma snorted.

"Or," Regina said, ignoring David, "We could proceed with interrogating Mordred since he likely knows Zelena's plans."

"Yea I guess that's fine too," David agreed brightly. "Just don't set him on fire or anything."

Emma smiled. Her dad's persistent good humor...it reminded her of Ian. It just made her heart ache for her boy even more.

-

Killian and David sifted through the pile of Mordred's armor and weapons they'd dumped on the couch while Regina sat in Emma's chair in front of the cells, throwing question after question at Mordred, who so far had remained silent.

Emma and Mary Margaret hung back, near the office, perched on one of the desks. Emma had Ian's coat on her lap.

After nearly an hour, Emma said, "You guys don't need to stay here, you know. It's late. You should be at home with Neal."

"We're _staying_ ," her mom said. "Neal's safe with Belle and Will at the loft. Right now we need to make sure Ian's safe too."

"Thanks." Emma leaned against Mary Margaret, tilting her head sideways to rest on her mom's shoulder.

"You don't have to thank us, Emma," Mary Margaret said, and rested her cheek atop Emma's hair. "We're your parents. We're always going to fight for you."

Killian glanced over -- checking on her as he had at least once every 3 minutes -- saw them, and smiled.

"So, how are you feeling?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Hm?"

"You _know_ ," she wheedled. "Your _pregnancy_. The _baby_. Killian Jr."

"Oh," Emma said, and she felt a small rush of warmth thinking about the baby. Killian had felt the baby move that afternoon, and -- _God_ , he'd introduced himself and kissed her belly, and she couldn't _stand_ how adorable it was. "Uh, he's not a Jr."

"Killian the Younger, then."

"We just call him Little Killian, for now."

"Do you think you're going to call him Killian at all, or just Ian?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. I mean, I'm sure we'll be using his full name a lot as he gets older though."

"Killian David Jones," Mary Margaret said lovingly. "Your father still can't get over it."

"Yea, well Killian still can't get over how much dad can't get over it."

"He's worried about you, you know," Mary Margaret continued. "He's worried you're putting too much stress on yourself."

"Who, dad? He knows Henry didn't hatch out of an egg, right? I _have_ been pregnant before. I can handle it. Having a hard time getting out of a chair is the least of my worries right now."

"This time is a little different than last time, Emma. You _need_ to take care of yourself. Don't be afraid to lean on your father and I for help."

"How long has dad been worrying?"

"Oh, the _whole time_."

"What? Really?"

"Yes! You have _no_ idea."

"Why didn't he say anything?"

"He was afraid to -- how did he put it? oh, yea -- he was afraid to step on Killian's toes."

Emma smiled at the fact that David respected and trusted Killian enough to worry about undermining him as her boyfriend and as a father-to-be. She watched them, heads bent together over a breastplate they were examining, and remembered that once, not so very long ago, David had punched Killian in the face for knocking him out with a crow bar.

"Tell dad he doesn't have to worry. Killian's taking care of me. He's read just about every pamphlet and manual on pregnancy that he could find, so I'm pretty sure he actually knows more about what's going on with my body than I do."

"He's really excited."

Emma smirked. "He is. He's been reading to the baby," she said. She didn't mention that he _sang_ to her stomach, too. She didn't think anyone else knew that he could sing, or that he enjoyed it and had a marvelous voice, so she decided to keep it her secret.

"Your father used to read to you too, you know. When I was pregnant."

"Really?"

"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "He read you a lot of books about pirates, actually...maybe that's where it all started."

"You're joking!" Emma spluttered.

Mary Margaret pressed the back of her hand to her lips to muffle her laugh. David and Killian paused their conversation and lifted their hands to look at them curiously.

"I'm kidding," Mary Margaret said, between giggles. "But can you _imagine_?"

"I can imagine how _smug_ it would make Killian, thinking that I had a _thing_ for pirates all along," she said, shaking her head.

Her giggles having subsided, Mary Margaret cleared her throat and gestured for David and Killian to return to whatever it was they were doing.

"So, what else?"

"Well, you know about the crib -- "

"I do. Emma, it's _so_ beautiful," Mary Margaret crooned, and Emma heard the wistfulness in her voice. "It looks just like yours."

"I know."

"We were so excited when Marco finished yours," Mary Margaret said. Her eyes had that faraway look they got whenever she spoke of the Enchanted Forest. "I couldn't wait to lay you down in it. We were going to sing you to sleep every night, read you stories..."

Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Emma said softly, putting her arms around Mary Margaret. "Mom, it's okay."

Mary Margaret nodded shakily, but her lips were pressed together, trembling.

"I know the three of us never got what you and dad planned for us...but it's okay. We're together now, that's what matters. It's enough for me to know that Neal gets to have that."

Mary Margaret sucked in a breath, steadying herself, then said in a rush, "We're really proud of you and Killian and what you're building together. The crib -- we know it's about giving the baby the childhood neither of you had."

Emma's response felt stuck in her throat, suddenly too tight.

"We're happy you found your home with Killian, Emma."

Emma found her voice. "I found my home before, with you and dad and Henry."

"Yea, but with Killian and now the baby, and your home and Henry mostly living there... it just seems complete."

"I wouldn't have any of this if you guys hadn't put me in that wardrobe to give me my best chance," Emma said.

"It was worth it, Emma. To see you happy like this...it was worth it."

They hugged, arms going tightly around each other. Emma could tell by the lack of clinking armor that David and Killian had stopped examining Mordred's belongings and were watching them.

Conscious of their gazes, Emma pulled away, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"Emma, you look tired," her mom said, scrubbing at her own wet cheeks. "You should lie down."

Emma shook her head. "No, I can't sleep until we've found Ian. If I close my eyes, all I'm gonna dream about is him -- " she gasped and jolted off the desk and to her feet.

Killian whipped around. "Emma, what is it?"

"I know how we're going to find Ian. I'm so stupid; I should have thought of this before."

"Emma, what are you talking about?" Mary Margaret asked.

Killian strode quickly to her side, eyes searching hers.

"The Sands of Morpheus," she said, reaching out to grip his forearms. "When I used them I used them on the baby too, which is why Ian ended up in the dream world with me."

"You can use them now to see Ian again," Killian said, his face lighting up with a grin. "Emma, you're _brilliant_!"

-

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the loft for this love? Or back home?"

"No time," Emma said, shifting on the lumpy couch in the break room, trying to find the most comfortable position. Killian knelt on the floor beside her, while her parents occupied chairs at the table.

"Ok. Ready?" she said.

Killian nodded. He took a pinch of sand from the vial Regina had conjured from her vault and raised his hand to hover over her face.

"Remember love," he said softly. "No matter what happens, I'm right here."

"I know," she said, and offered him a smile before closing her eyes.

As soon as the sand touched her eyelids she was pulled into the dream world. She found herself in the baby's dream again -- in that warm, dark place with the steady, soothing sound of a heart beating somewhere far above.

"I knew you'd come."

Emma turned and saw Ian grinning at her. She rushed to him and hugged him hard. Somehow, he smelled like Killian's shampoo even in the dream world.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"I'm fine, mom," he said, and she felt him lean into her with the same desperation with which she leaned into him.

"Sorry it took so long for me to figure it out, kid," she said.

He shrugged. "It's okay."

She pulled away and held his face in between her hands.

"Your dad and I need to know where you are."

His eyebrows drew down. "I...I don't know. I think it's in a cave. It's really dark. I can't really see. The floor is stone though. And I think the walls are too."

"Can you take me there? Can you show me?"

"I think so...hold on," Ian said. He closed his eyes, and their surroundings changed. They were definitely standing in a cave. There were candles hovering around the perimeter, near the walls, casting a dim light over the area. At the back was another Ian, lying curled up on the floor. Drawn on the stone around him was an elaborate circle surrounded by symbols, similar to the one Regina had chalked around the time portal before Zelena arrived.

"What is that?" Emma asked, squinting at it through the semi-darkness.

"A devil's trap," Ian answered dryly. "I think we accidentally gave her some ideas."

Emma looked away, trying not to think about how Ian was really lying on a cold stone floor somewhere, alone. She rotated slowly, eyes scanning up and down, examining every bit of the cave she could see. Maybe something would give her a clue as to where exactly Ian was -- some sort of rock only found in the north part of the woods, or maybe some moss that only grew in another part...

"Do you hear that?" she asked suddenly.

"Hear what?"

"Shh!"

They both fell silent, listening.

"Waves," Ian said. "It's the ocean!"

"You're near the ocean?"

Ian shook his head like he'd just realized something.

"Yea! There are caves in the cliffs all along the sea. This is why we couldn't find her! She's been here!"

Emma grabbed Ian by the shoulders. "Your dad and I and grandma and grandpa are coming," she said. "We're going to find you."

"I know you will -- but, mom...you know I'm bait, right? Zelena's just trying to lure you guys into a trap."

"Yea, we know. We're not going to let that stop us."

"Ok, just...be careful, okay?"

Emma heard the tremble in his voice.

"Ian," she said. "There's something else I want you to show me."

"What?"

"When we were in the dream world before, I saw part of your memory from the future. We were in the barn. You were about to jump into the time portal. I saw me and your dad lying on the ground."

She felt Ian try to pull away but she held on.

"Ian. Let's look together."

"What?"

"Let's look together. We can find out for sure whether or not Zelena and Mordred are lying."

"But, what if -- "

"Then we find a way to change it. Your dad and I aren't going to stop fighting, do you understand?"

Ian's tongue darted out to probe the corner of his mouth -- another of Killian's ticks he'd inherited.

"Take us there, Ian."

He hesitated for only a moment before closing his eyes and biting his lip in concentration, and then they were back in the barn, standing next to another version of him poised to leap into the pillar of fire that was the time portal.

Emma's eyes darted immediately to the doorway, where the two bodies lay. There was no denying that it was Emma and Killian. She recognized Killian's legs in black jeans, the glint of his hook; she recognized her red leather jacket and her own blonde hair.

Beside her, she heard Ian's sharp intake of breath.

"Wait," she said. Her hand snapped out to take hold of his wrist. "Just wait."

The memory version of Ian jumped into the portal. Emma felt herself being tugged with him, but she resisted, she held her and Ian in place. She needed to see. _Ian_ needed to see.

It was less than a heartbeat before two more figures stepped into the doorway, and Emma almost lost her grip on the scene in her surprise.

Standing there against the nighttime backdrop of the farm were her and Killian -- completely unscathed and decidedly not dead. The future version of Emma waved her hand, and the two bodies on the floor morphed into two bundles of hay, then the two of them walked swiftly to the edge of the time portal.

"Are you ready to go get him back?" Future Emma asked future Killian.

"Aye, love," Killian said, offering her the crook of his hook arm. Future Emma wrapped her hand around Killian's elbow, and then the two of them leapt.

Emma released her hold on the memory -- or the vision, she couldn't be sure what it counted as -- and she and Ian were suddenly back in the baby's dream.

"They're coming!" Ian said, eyes wide and excited. "They're -- you're -- I don't know, whatever! _They're coming!_ "

Emma didn't know what was more shocking: the fact that future her and Killian _weren't_ dead, the fact that future her and Killian had apparently _let_ Ian jump into the time portal, or that Emma and Killian were probably going to meet the future version of themselves.

She decided she'd contemplate that one later -- right now she had to focus on rescuing her kid.

"Ian," she said, grabbing his shoulders again and stopping his happy wiggling. "Do you know what the other ingredient Zelena needs for her spell is?"

"No," he said, serious once more, although Emma could feel the excited tremors passing through him. "I only know that whatever it is, she thinks she's going to get it when you guys come to rescue me."

Emma nodded. Killian had said as much.

"Mom, there's one more thing..." Ian said.

"What is it?"

"Do you remember when we were in the woods, and dad got a cut on his ear from and arrow?"

"Yea."

"Zelena has that arrow."

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I, really. But the arrow has dad's blood on it. And she seems to think it's important."

"What could she want your dad's blood for?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm telling you." he said.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. Your dad and I will figure it out. Just hang in there, kid. We're coming to get you."

"I love you, mom," he said. He hugged her.

"I love you, too," Emma said. She cradled the back of his head, holding him to her tightly. 

"See you soon," she said, and kissed Ian's temple, over his scar.

-

Emma opened her eyes, and saw Killian's anxious ones. He was holding tightly to one of her hands.

"I know where he is," she said. "But it's going to take us a while to find him."

Killian visibly sagged with relief. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"Are you ready to go get him back?" he asked, and his words rang in her ears.

"Yea. And there's actually one more thing I need to tell you..."

 

* * *

 

_The Underworld_

Hades was a pile of ash on the ground. Zelena stirred it with the toe of her boot.

"Now, explain to me again why you couldn't do that on your own?" she asked.

"The contract, dearie," said a voice behind her. "He owns me, therefore, _I can't kill him_. Besides, what are you so upset about? We both get something we want out of this."

She gave her boot a delicate flick to remove the ash, then spun on her heel to face Rumplestiltskin.  

"Speaking of, _you_ got what _you_ wanted. Now give _me_ what _I_ want," she said.

"In a hurry, are we?" Rumplestiltskin asked, resting one hand over the other atop his cane.

" _You_ may be willing to wait another decade to get back to your children, but I'd much prefer to be with my daughter right now, thank you."

Rumplestiltskin just smiled haughtily.

"You do have the memories of all the previous Dark Ones, correct? Or was that a lie to get me to do your bidding."

"It wasn't a lie. I have what you need. You just have to promise me one thing."

"And what's that?"

"Promise me you won't harm Belle or our children. Or I'll make sure you find your way down here much sooner than you think."

Zelena snorted. "I won't touch your children, Rumple. I don't need them. _Emma Swan_ has what I need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold is NOT returning in this fic. He will be returning in the sequel I have planned though, so I've been trying to lay some groundwork for it and drop hints throughout this fic. But, like...this is the big one. And there will be one more biggish one next chapter (Ian's scarrrrr).


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started planning this story last year in the 5A-5B hiatus, I totally expected Arthur and the Camelot crew to just be written off with little to no explanation, and in this chapter I can finally provide some backstory. 
> 
> Gold's part in this fic is over. He gave Zelena what she needed, and he won't return until the sequel :D

Ian opened his eyes. The candles were snuffed, but there was enough natural light filling the cave that Ian could see he was alone in the cave. Zelena had left shortly after dumping him inside the devil's trap and apparently still hadn't returned.

He smiled.

Mom and dad were coming.

And not just _any_ mom and dad -- dad with his scary pirate face on and mom with her I've-got-some-ass-to-kick ponytail in.

Which meant Zelena was a goner.

He lay still for a while, listening to the ocean waves, watching the room grow slowly brighter. The sun must be rising outside. His mom and dad would be waking up soon to start looking for him. He knew they'd find him, he just hoped it was sooner rather than later. The town itself might be small, but the coastline -- like the woods -- was extensive.

Not to mention the cave was likely concealed by magic.

He sat up slowly, stretched as much as he could in his tiny prison, ignoring the various complaints from just about every joint and muscle in his entire body, then leaned forward to examine the devil's trap. Zelena had cleverly reworked the symbols to contain a light magic user, meaning not only could he not extend his magic outside the circle, he couldn't even use it _inside_ the circle. He tried reaching for his magic once, just to see, but it felt like grasping at nothingness.

A shadow cut into the light, and Zelena stalked into the cave.

"You're back," he said.

Zelena spared him the briefest of glances before pushing aside a curtain and disappearing into another section of the cave.

"Hey, you got anything to eat in this place?" he called. "Or, like, something to read? I'm starving and it's going to get pretty boring sitting here waiting for my mom to come and kick your ass."

He leaned back on his hands and tapped his feet idly as he waited for her to return.

"Love what you've done with the place. Curtains? Nice touch. Very cozy. Not sure if green is the right color though."

Zelena re-emerged. "I wouldn't be so cheerful, if I were you. Killing you is still an option."

"You won’t kill me."

She squatted down at the edge of the devil’s trap so they were eye to eye. 

"You're right. I won't kill you. I need your parents to come to your rescue. I may, however,  _hurt_  you -- “

She gave a little flick of her wrist, and Ian let out a gasp. It felt as if his blood was boiling in his veins. He wanted to scream but he refused to give her the satisfaction, so he gritted his teeth and bore it out. Zelena lowered her hand, and the pain ended as abruptly as it had begun. She was watching him, waiting for his reaction.

"Is that all you've got?" The words slipped from his lips while inwardly he groaned.

_You're an idiot._

To his surprise, she smiled.

"You're _just_ like your father," she said, then her eyes narrowed and her smile became malicious. "Do you think it made him proud, seeing his son almost become a killer?"

"You don't know him," Ian said coldly. "And you don't know me."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Enjoy what?"

"Holding Mordred's life quite literally in the palm of your hand. Did you enjoy it?"

Ian was silent.

"It felt _good_ , didn't it?"

Ian was struck suddenly by Zelena's resemblance to her daughter. The excited gleam in her eye reminded Ian of Rowan, except Rowan only got that look when she had discovered some new bit of magic she wanted to try (which usually meant sneaking into Regina's vault), or when she and Uncle Robin had finished carving that bow that fit her perfectly, or that one time they'd been playing hockey in the yard and she'd scored a goal on him and he hadn't even let her do it she'd done it on her own, or when they'd kissed last Christmas...

Seeing that same look on Zelena now made him feel sick.

"You know she's a good person, right?" he asked.

The smile froze on Zelena's face. "Who?"

"Rowan. She's happy being who she is. You shouldn't take that away from her."

"She'll be happy with _me_ , too." Zelena snarled.

"Will she be? Happier than she is here?"

Zelena stood suddenly. "What do _you_ know," she hissed, and walked away. She wrenched the curtains aside, but instead of going through them she spun on her heel and came back.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

"Um..."

"Yes, or no? If you say yes, I'll tell you what I did with your father's blood."

"Yes," he said grudgingly.

_Fuck._

"I used it to pay a little visit to the Underworld to see an old friend. Ever heard of Rumplestiltskin?"

Ian's eyes widened, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously.

"Mm, I see you _have_. Well, I just killed a god and made Rumplestiltskin King of Hell. And do you know what? He's going to be paying your parents a visit one day -- if there's anything left of them after I've had my fun, that is."

Zelena left him there, staring after her dumbly. The confidence he'd felt earlier shriveled inside him.

If there was _one_ thing that had happened to him that he wished had never happened...it was _that._

It was Rumplestiltskin.

Mr. Gold.

This was what started it: _Zelena_ had started it.

And the worst part was he couldn't tell his parents, because as much as he wished he could avoid what had happened, he couldn't.

It was too big. It would change too much.

He drew his knees up, folded his arms across them, and buried his face.

Something echoed back to him, something long forgotten. He heard a door creaking open as clearly as if it was happening in real life, and in his head he saw a red door.

 

* * *

 

Killian couldn't sleep. He was lying awake in Emma's bed at her parents' loft with her beside him asleep in the circle of his arms, chest pressed tightly to his side so that he could feel her heart beating steadily against his ribs. He stared at the ceiling, watching the light quality change gradually from impenetrable black to murky slate to pearlescent grey. Soon the sun would rise and their search for Ian could begin.

His restlessness grew with each passing minute. He wanted to be out there _now_. The only thing that prevented him leaping from bed was the certainty that if he moved he would jostle Emma and wake her. She needed rest -- as much as possible -- not just for her, but for the baby.

It had been difficult to persuade Emma to stay behind, but in the end he had convinced her that a day on a small boat in choppy waters being constantly buffeted by cold wind and even colder sea spray would do more harm than good.

Let him and David do the leg work, he had told her. Zelena wanted them to find Ian, but she wasn't going to make it easy. She wanted them exhausted and desperate, willing to give her what she needed for her time travel spell in exchange for Ian. Killian and David could wear themselves out searching the sea cliffs without serious detriment to the rescue effort; _Emma_ needed to be at full strength because _Emma_ was the one who was going to defeat Zelena, in the end.

Killian turned his head, resting his chin against her hair lightly. His fingers found her hair and he ran the strands through his fingers.

She was a tough lass, his Emma. No matter what was thrown her way, she overcame it.

Her breathing changed, and Killian knew she was waking up.

"Mmm, hey," she mumbled, eyes opening the tiniest bit. "Did you sleep?"

"No, love."

She looked up at him with big, bright eyes, the first light of dawn catching the green and making them sparkle.

"Thinking about Ian?" she asked.

 "Aye," he said, letting out a deep breath. "I can't sleep while he's out there."

"I know. I was hoping I'd see him in my dreams again," she said.

"Did you?"

"No, I guess that only works with the Sand."

Killian kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger on her brow, smoothing the lines of worry that creased her skin. "We'll see him soon," he said. "He knows we're coming for him."

She nodded, and after a moment, she smiled. "He knows future us are coming for him, too."

Killian went rigid.

"What?" Emma asked.

She had told him what she'd seen, of course; told him that they were alive and well in the future, and apparently on their way, and while Killian was relieved, he was also apprehensive.

"I fear my future self won't be very pleased with me," Killian said. "I expect a punch in the face is in order."

Emma huffed out a quiet laugh. "Ok, well, first of all, future you is _not_ going to be upset -- "

"You can't know that, love."

"I _can_ know that. Future you is _you_ ," she said.

" _Exactly_."

"No, what I mean is -- okay, I'm not sure _how_ , but I think future us already knew what was going to happen. We tricked Zelena into thinking we were dead, let her jump into the time portal, and then let Ian jump in after her. I think this -- all of this -- already happened to them. So future you isn't an entirely different person with different experiences, he's just the future version of you that is doing everything you're doing right now...does that make sense?"

Killian followed her meaning, but he still shook his head in confusion. "That wasn't how it worked when you and I travelled to the past."

"Yea, I know. That's what I sort of don't get.." Emma said slowly, then shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we'll have to ask ourselves when we meet them."

Killian groaned and pressed his head back into the pillow.

"Hey," Emma said, laying her hand against his cheek and turning his chin to face her. "Even if future you _does_ want to hit you, future me isn't going to let him."

"Unless future you is mad at me as well."

He saw her smirk, was braced for a sly comment, but before Emma could speak they heard footsteps and creaking floorboards from below, heading in the direction of the stairs.

"Hey," called a quiet voice up to them. It was David. "Are you guys awake?"

"Yea," Emma said, at the same time Killian said, "Aye."

"The sun's almost up. Why don't you two get ready, and I'll make us some pancakes?"

"Ok, dad. Be right down."

Killian listened, waiting for David to move into the kitchen before he rolled Emma onto her back and kissed her. She sighed against his lips. His hand trailed down her side. When he reached her thigh he pulled, hitching her leg up over his hip.

"Easy, tiger," Emma whispered.

"Apologies, love," he whispered back, breaking their kiss and pressing his forehead to hers. "Kissing you makes me feel whole again."

She threaded her fingers in his hair. "It'll be okay," she said.

Killian nodded.

"Hey," David called. "Are you guys coming or what?"

 

* * *

 

Emma saw Killian, David, and Robin off at the docks. Emma hadn't expected Robin to be there (she had expected him to be at home keeping Rowan safe), but his response to her questioning look had been a grin and, "I'm not much of a sailor, but I'd like to help. Ian risked his life to protect my daughter, so I feel I owe him the same."

Killian had clapped him on the shoulder and said, "We'd be happy to have you join us," then gestured Robin aboard the boat they were taking. David had unearthed a small response boat with 'Sheriff's Department' emblazoned on the side that Emma hadn't even known they'd had.

"We'll call you as soon as we find Zelena's hideout," Killian had said. He'd kissed her, and then he, David, and Robin were off.

Emma watched the boat until it left the harbor, then turned and walked to Granny's for donuts. She was determined to make Mordred talk, and she knew that if there was one way to win a teenage boy's trust, it was with junk food.

-

Mordred was already awake when Emma got to the station, sitting on the bed as if he hadn't moved since they'd left him there the previous night. Regina wasn't there yet, but Emma suspected she would be soon to continue her interrogation.

Mordred watched her approach his cell.

"Here. Eat," Emma said. She maneuvered the box through the bars and flipped the lid open.

Mordred threw the donuts a filthy look before turning away.

"I suggest the double chocolate ones," Emma continued, as if the boy wasn't ignoring her. "They're Ian and Henry's favorite. If you want one you'd better get it now, before Henry gets here."

Still, he resisted.

"If you're not into chocolate, the strawberry-frosted one is good too. It's got sprinkles and everything. I bet they don't have sprinkles in Camelot."

She gave the box a little shake, and saw him swallow hard before turning further away. The donuts had to smell like a feast to him. He'd probably been eating nuts and berries and whatever else you could forage from a forest for at least a month.

Emma decided to try another tactic.

"Your mom is Queen Guinevere, right? I met her. I know she must love you. She's probably worried about you. How do you think she would feel if she knew you weren't eating -- "

" _My mother's dead_ ," Mordred spat. The quickness of his reply and the vehemence in his voice startled Emma.

"She died? When?"

"She died giving birth to me."

"Oh." Emma withdrew the box of donuts and tucked them away. She drew her chair back around the front of her desk and sat down, facing Mordred's cell.

 "I'm sorry," she said.

"What do _you_ care?"

"I know what it's like growing up without a mother. Without parents, really. And like I said, I met your mom and I...well, I didn't get to know her very well, but I liked her. She was very kind."

After their trip to the Underworld, everyone had been eager to put the past behind them and move forward. Emma had wanted to forget Camelot and forget the weeks she'd spent in Storybrooke as the Dark One. Arthur, cowed after his defeat and after his quest to restore Excalibur ended in failure, had accepted their offer to return him and his people to Camelot, and they'd let him go without a second thought.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

"What happened to your dad?" Emma asked.

Mordred seemed to close in on himself, but Emma was fairly certain she could guess the answer.

She wanted to _hate_ this kid. He'd been helping Zelena. He'd hurt Ian once and tried to hurt him a second time. He'd tried to kill her here and had actually killed her in the future -- well, her and Killian's death might be a trick, but Mordred couldn't know that. Which meant he believed he committed two murders. And he didn't seem remorseful.

What the hell made a 13-year-old like this?

Emma settled back in her chair.

"Your dad's dead too, isn't he?" she asked, and received a stiff nod in answer. "For how long?"

"A few years."

"How? What happened to your dad after we sent him back to Camelot?"

"You mean after you betrayed him?" he asked, baring his teeth in a snarl.

"Whoa, kid," she said, sitting up straight. "After I _what_?"

He stood and stalked to the bars, dark eyes burning with rage. "You killed Merlin. You stole Excalibur. You turned his people against him. You poisoned him and my mother's love. You _ruined_ him." He seized the bars and yelled, "I HAVE NO PARENTS BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Emma struggled to contain her own anger, rising quickly. "You better pump your brakes, kid. You don't know the whole story -- "

"I've read the story in our history books a thousand times!"

"And who wrote those history books?"

"My father."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe your father lied?"

"My father would _never_ have lied to me."

"Your father's _whole kingdom_ was a lie. His relationship with your mom was a lie."

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, grabbing the bars. "My father was a hero. He never lied to me. Not once. Not ever. _You're_ the liar!"

Emma crossed her arms tightly over her chest but remained seated.

Something about Mordred's complete and utter faith in his father unsettled Emma. She thought of Ian and Killian, how each adored the other, how they only seemed to bring out the good in each other, and realized why.

Ian and Mordred were like opposite sides of the same coin, one light, the other dark. One nurtured and enriched by his father, the other left scarred and deeply damaged by his.

This kid couldn't move on unless he knew the truth about Arthur.

"Don't believe me about your dad?" she said calmly. "Let me prove it to you. Ever heard of the Author?"

Emma could tell from his suspicious glare that he had.

-

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Henry asked.

Emma sighed and straightened his scarf. "No, I'm just _hoping_ it will."

"It's worth a try," Regina said.

Henry nodded and walked across the office to stand before Mordred's cell. Emma and Regina followed but gave him some space.

" _You're_ the Author?" Mordred asked skeptically, looking Henry over from head to toe.

Henry shrugged casually. "Yea."

"I don't believe you."

"Do you believe _this_?" Henry asked, and pulled the Author's pen from his pocket.

Mordred's eyes widened.

"You recognize it," Henry said, and Emma heard the smirk in his voice. Killian was _so_ rubbing off on him.

"I've seen drawings. In Merlin's books," Mordred stood and approached the bars slowly, staring transfixed at the pen in Henry's hand.

"Then you probably know that this pen can only record what _actually_ happened."

Mordred glanced up at Henry's face and then back at the pen.

"I lived what happened in Camelot," Henry said, "so I know what happened. I've already written that story with this pen, but I'm going to do it again, right here and right now, so you'll know that what I write is the truth."

Mordred straightened, drawing himself up to his full height. "Fine," he said.

-

Regina left to keep watch over Rowan, and Henry spent the rest of the day sitting at Emma's desk bent over a stack of papers, scribbling furiously while Mordred glared at him from his cell.

Emma hovered over Henry's shoulder, watching proudly, although her thoughts were half with Killian and David, and half with Ian. She checked her phone constantly, waiting for a call. It never came, and shortly after dark David, Robin, and Killian tramped into the station with heavy footsteps.

They were soaked and shivering, and Emma could see Killian was in a dark mood from across the office. He offered no responses to her questions, and instead peeled off in the direction of the break room muttering something about a hot drink.

"Give him a few minutes," David said gently. "We searched everywhere. We must have missed something. He...he didn't want to stop searching. But it's too dangerous out there after dark. We don't have the proper equipment, and -- "

"I know, dad," she said, and patted him on the arm reassuringly.

"I'm sorry we failed, Emma," Robin said.

"It's okay. Thank you for trying."

"We'll try again tomorrow. Rest assured we won't give up until we find your son."

"I know," Emma said, offering them a smile before going to join Killian in the break room.

He was standing at the counter, hand and hook braced on its edge, head bowed. He was visibly shaking -- from sadness or anger, Emma didn't know -- but he stilled when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," she said. "It's okay. We're going to find him."

"I don't know how we could have missed it, Emma. We searched every cave we came across. Are you certain that's where he is?"

"I don't know...he was in a cave. We heard the waves. He said there were caves all along the coast...it made sense."

Killian nodded, head still lowered, staring at the floor.

She slipped at arm around him and rested her cheek against his shoulder

"It must be cloaked with magic, just like her campsites in the woods," she said. "You could be looking at it but not even know you were looking at it."

She screamed inside her own head. _Then how are we supposed to find him?_

"It's all part of her game," Killian said, and Emma saw his knuckles go white as he tightened his grip on the counter. "She'll let us find him when she's decided we're desperate enough."

"Then we keep looking until then. And if we're lucky, we'll find him before that."

Killian sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "Aye. I just don't want him to spend another night alone."

"Me either," she said. She buried her fingers in the hair at his nape, both to comfort herself and to comfort Killian.

"How about you?" he asked. "Did you get anything out of Mordred?"

"Only that I'm the reason he grew up without parents," she said.

He pulled his head up, confusion written clearly on his face, so Emma filled him in.

"Perhaps what Henry writes will be enough to convince him that we're not the villains here," Killian said. "Having him on our side might help us find Ian faster."

"If anyone can make him believe, it's Henry," she said. "You ready to go back out there?"

"Aye, love."

-

Killian made tea while Emma scrounged up some blankets, and they returned to the office to find a new addition -- Ava.

"Hey," Emma said, blinking in surprise.

"Hi, Emma," Ava said, smiling shyly.

Emma hadn't seen her up close in a couple of years, and was taken aback by how much she'd changed. She was definitely not a little girl anymore. She glanced over to where Henry was, still at her desk, watching them, blushing from his neck all the way up to his hairline.

Killian nudged her, and she realized she was standing there, gaping like an idiot.

"Um," she said, giving herself a little shake. "Are you here to go to the dance with Henry?"

"No, not exactly. He told me what happened to his brother. I just...I thought maybe there was something I could do. Or that maybe I could just keep Henry company."

"Oh," Emma said, impressed. She looked back and forth between Ava and Henry for a moment, before she pushed the two mugs of tea she was carrying into Ava's hands and said, "Here, why don't you guys have these and Killian and I will make some more."

Ava carried the tea carefully over to Henry, who hastily jumped up and procured an extra chair for her to sit down in. Robin and David shook with silent, gleeful laughter, as they watched Henry scramble to clear a space on Emma's desk for Ava to place the mugs.

Emma rolled her eyes, tossed their blankets at them, hitting them squarely in their faces, said, "Put those on and warm up," then led Killian back into the break room to boil more hot water.

"I like her," Killian said quietly.

"I do too," Emma said. "Hey, have I ever told you how I first met her?"

"No, love, I don't believe you have."

Emma smiled. "Her and her brother were some of the first people I ever helped in Storybrooke."

"Perhaps it's fitting then, that she and Henry end up together."

" _If_ they end up together. They're just kids, you know? "

"I don't know, Swan. Our lad seemed rather keen to get them together."

"Yea, I think that's just because he wants free ice cream for life."

Thinking about Ian made her sad all over again. She turned to Killian and said without preamble, "I want to go back into the dream world tonight. I don't want Ian to be alone."

He didn't seem surprised by the abrupt change in topic.

"I thought you might say that," he said, smiling a small smile to himself.

-

Robin volunteered to take Henry and Ava to Granny's for dinner.

"Mom," Henry started, and Emma heard the note of complaint in his voice.

"Robin's just going with to make sure you guys are safe, okay? He's not going to sit in the booth with you or anything; you'll have privacy -- "

" _Mom_ ," Henry said again, "That's not what I meant. I meant how can I go on a...a..."

"Date?" Robin supplied, grinning at Emma over Henry's head.

Henry squared his shoulders, and ground out, "How can I go on a _date_ while Ian's Zelena's prisoner?"

Emma put her hands on her hips. "Do _you_ want to be the one to explain to your brother how you let all his matchmaking go to waste?"

Henry's mouth fell open. "Um, I..."

"Exactly," Emma said, then, more gently, "There's nothing else you can do tonight, okay? Go have dinner with Ava. Try to enjoy yourself. You know Ian would want you to. And _I_ want you to too. It's Valentine's Day, after all."

"Fine," Henry huffed stubbornly.

Before Robin, Henry, and Ava left Henry slipped a stack of papers through the bars of Mordred's cell. Mordred took them wordlessly, held them clutched in his lap, but made no move to read them. Emma figured he probably wanted privacy, so she left an extra light on for him, then shuffled Killian and David from the office. David drove back to the loft ahead of them in the pickup, and Emma and Killian followed in the bug.

As they drove past The Crow's Nest, both Emma and Killian were surprised to see the lights on and a steady stream of people walking through the door.

"Swan, what's going on?" Killian asked, leaning forward across the dashboard.

"I have no idea," she muttered. She pulled the car up to the curb and they both jumped out. They had to squeeze past the crowd gathered in the doorway, and once they did they were greeted loudly and cheerfully by Will, Belle, and Marco, all behind the counter.

"We needed a few extra hands tonight, so I called in reinforcements," Will explained, while Belle and Marco beamed.

Emma stared around in amazement. Someone had strung up pink fairy lights and stuck red paper hearts to the walls. Emma suspected Belle, and Belle's shy grin when she saw Emma inspecting the decorations confirmed her suspicion.

"I thought we were going to be closed tonight," Killian said.

Will shrugged. "We can't close the bar on her second night. It's bad for business, mate."

"You didn't have to do this," Killian said.

"I know I didn't _have_ to. I wanted to."

"Thank you," Killian said, so quietly it was a wonder Will heard him.

"That's what friends are for, right?" Will said, grinning. He held up the bottle of El Dorado and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Killian gestured his consent, and Will poured two shot glasses full of rum before stowing the bottle.

"Sheriff, anything for you?" Will asked.

"I'm good, thanks," she said.

"Alright then," Will said, taking his glass in hand. Killian did likewise. "To The Crow's Nest."

"The Crow's Nest," Killian intoned, then he and Will tapped their glasses once on the bar before downing the contents.

Killian tilted his head. "Not bad," he said.

"Thought you'd like it," Will said. "Stay for one more?"

Killian shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Belle returned from where she'd been helping a customer, and said, "Let us know if you need anything, alright?"

"Aye, we will. Thank you."

"You just focus on finding your son, mate. Let us worry about the bar."

"You're a good man, Will," Killian said.

"Glad to see you're finally coming around," Will said, and winked.

-

Back at the loft, Emma changed into pajamas and settled in bed beneath the covers. Killian sat beside her, holding the tiny vial contained the Sands of Morpheus.

"I wish I could go with you," he said.

"Me too," she said. She reached up and cupped his cheek.

He caught her hand, turned his head to press a kiss to her palm. "Will you give him a message for me?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Tell him I said I love him. And that I'll see him tomorrow."

"I will," she said. "Anything else?"

"Aye. Don't forget to tell him about Henry's date with Ava."

Emma laughed.

-

Emma was in the dream world, sitting  on the ground with her legs stretched out before her. Ian was curled up as she imagined he was in the cave in real life, only here he had his head resting in her lap. He was facing away from her, but she knew his eyes were closed and he was dreaming because the scene around them kept changing.

She ran her fingers through his hair as he dreamed, reassuring them both that he wasn't alone. She was content to let him sleep, partly because she hoped it meant in real life he was actually getting sleep, but also because what she saw in his dreams was fascinating.

He must have been thinking about home all day, because he was dreaming about it. Emma was in a classroom full of kids Ian's age, watching Ian trade silly faces with a boy sitting several rows across from him, a boy with gentle brown eyes and red gold hair, until the teacher barked, "Ian! Enzo! Pay attention!" and they both started guiltily and bent their heads dutifully over their books.

Then things changed slightly. They were still in the classroom, except one of the students -- a girl -- seemed bathed in the glow of the sun, as if it was a spotlight aimed directly on her and her alone. She had tawny colored hair in thick waves down her back, and when she turned her head so Emma could see her face she realized it must be Rowan.

Then Emma was walking behind Ian as he and Rowan snuck down a hallway in Regina's vault.

"Wait," Ian said, reaching out and tugging on her hand.

Rowan turned, one eyebrows raised, and asked, "Scared?"

Then Emma was watching Ian and Rowan talking in Granny's at what was clearly a Christmas party. They were at the back, by the jukebox, and they were alone. Rowan's smile and grayish eyes held all of Robin's kindness and none of her mother's cruelty. Emma could see why Ian had a crush on her. He was tugging on his ear nervously while Rowan was eyeing him knowingly. Above their heads dangled a sprig of mistletoe. Suddenly, Rowan swooped in, grabbed Ian by his sweater, and pulled his mouth to hers. Ian was clearly startled. His ears flushed pink, but then Emma saw his eyes flutter shut and his hands lifted hesitantly to Rowan's waist.

Emma blinked, and they were in the cave again.

"Hey," Ian said, turning his head to frown at her. "Stop spying."

"No, no," Emma said, smiling. "Go back to that. It was cute."

"It was _private_ ," he grumbled, but he closed his eyes and they were back at Granny's.

" _Mom_!" interrupted a child's voice. "Ian's kissing a _girl_!"

There was a little girl with long blonde hair standing there, hands on her hips, green eyes sparkling impishly. Ian and Rowan broke apart hastily.

"JACKIE!" Ian shouted, the blush creeping from his ears down his neck.

"I'm sorry, did I hear someone say Ian's kissing a girl?" Killian asked, striding into the hallway, grinning hugely.

Regina appeared beside him. "What girl? It had better not be my dau -- " her statement ended in a gasp.

And then Emma and Ian were in the cave again.

"That's your sister?" Emma asked.

"Yea," Ian said. "Dad already knew about her. How?"

"The unicorn horn," Emma said.

"Ah," Ian said. He was silent for a moment, staring off into space, and then he said softly, "Everyone says she looks just like you."

"She does," Emma said, and something about that made her more excited than she would have guessed.

"Grandpa spoils her rotten."

Emma laughed. "I bet he does."

Ian closed his eyes. It was just them in the cave for some time, and then their surroundings changed once again.

They were in the woods, in a natural hollow at the bottom of a steep slope. It was nighttime, but the full moon cast enough light for Emma to see a younger Ian lying on the ground a few feet away in a pile of soggy autumn leaves. His temple was laid open, and the entire left side of his face was painted red with fresh blood.

Emma glanced down at the Ian whose head was in her lap. The scar above his eyebrow matched up with the jagged gash on the other Ian's head.

_Definitely not a fall from the house roof, then._

"Ian!" called  a voice. Emma looked up. At the top of the slope was another boy, this one with dark hair whom she thought looked familiar.

She squinted, trying to see better, but then they were back in the cave again. Ian looked surprised, and guilty.

"That's how you got this," Emma said, tracing his scar gently with her thumb.

"Yea."

"Who was that other boy?"

"Neal."

"Neal?" Emma asked. It had been her brother? A thought struck Emma: Neal had been at the _top_ of the slope. Ian had been at the _bottom_. Had Neal pushed him? "Did Neal give you that scar?"

"A rock gave me this scar."

"Neal hit you with a rock?"

" _No_ , I fell into the rock. Neal just sort of...helped me fall."

"You're joking, right?"

"No."

Emma remembered him touching his scar after he'd told her parents they were too easy on Neal.

"Is he...is Neal mean to you?"

Ian shrugged. "He used to be. Not all the time. Just sometimes. Usually he was okay. He's not like that anymore, though."

He closed his eyes again. They were at Granny's. Ian, the dark-haired boy Emma knew _had_ to be Neal because he looked like their mom, and the boy with the red-gold hair were sitting in a booth together, laughing.

"Who's the other kid?" Emma asked.

"Enzo."

Emma looked closer. She could see the resemblance to Gold, now, especially the eyes. Before she could say anything they were back in the woods in the dark where Ian lay with his head bleeding.

Emma saw something out of the corner of her eye and turned her head. Standing at the bottom of the slope with them was a red door.

Ian jolted and sat up.

"What was that?" Emma asked quickly.

"Something not good. Sorry, I'll try to think about something nicer."

Their surroundings rippled, and for a moment they were in the woods, the door was creaking open, and then they were firmly in the cave again.

Ian was gripping the sides of his head.

"Ian, what's wrong?"

"You can't see that," he said. "I'm sorry."

After a while he lowered his hands, but he was still facing away from her.

"Trouble always seems to find you, huh?" she asked softly.

He was silent.

Emma reached out, put her hand on his arm.

"I know there's stuff in your past -- in our future -- that you can't tell me about. Big stuff. Bad things that happened. And that's okay. Whatever that thing in the woods with the red door is... your dad and I will face it when it's our time to face it. It's not...I don't want _you_ to worry about it, okay? It's not your responsibility to warn us about every crisis in our future."

She could tell he was listening.

"I'm the Savior. I know there's going to be a few crises along the way. It's in my job description. I get it," she said, then sighed and continued, "I don't like that because I'm the Savior you'll be in danger. I wish we could all have normal lives where we're safe all the time. And I hope you forgive me for that -- "

"Forgive you?" Ian asked, turning around. "Mom. I _never_ felt unsafe growing up. There were, you know, little things here and there, but you and dad and grandpa and grandma and Aunt Regina and Uncle Robin...you always protected us."   

Emma saw the fierce look in his blue eyes: it was Killian's "I'll never stop fighting" look.

Ian was a tough kid. He was _their_ tough kid. Emma and Killian's.

"Okay," Emma said finally. "Okay, I'll stop worrying. A little. For now."

They shared a smile, and then Ian laid back down, settling his head near her knees. Emma returned her hand to his hair, tracing her fingers through it, watching his eyelids droop.

"Your dad wanted me to give you a message," she said.

"Hm?"

"He says he loves you. And he'll see you tomorrow."

Ian's lips quirked in a smile as he drifted back to sleep.

"I love you guys too," he mumbled. "See you tomorrow."

-

Killian, David, and Robin took the boat out again the next morning, as soon as there was enough light.

Mordred sat in his cell the entire day staring at the wall, the story Henry had written lying in a loose heap on the mattress next to him. Emma wondered what was going on inside his head, but she could read nothing from his blank expression, and something stopped her from interrupting his thoughts. She didn't want to push him. He'd have to come to his own decision about what he'd read.

Regina and Henry kept Emma company, and around noon Ava joined them. She and Henry pretended to do their homework together in the back office while Emma and Regina pretended to believe them.

"He looks happy," Regina said. She and Emma were sitting at Emma's desk, waiting for either Mordred to speak or Emma's phone to ring -- _something_ to break the endless waiting.

Emma followed Regina's gaze to where Ava and Henry were sitting close together, laughing. Their little date the night before must have gone well. Ian had been thrilled to hear about it, and Emma knew Henry was in for some serious teasing when they got Ian back.

"Yea, he does look happy," Emma said. "I think he really likes her."

"Mm," was all Regina responded.

They were silent for a while, each wrapped up in their own thoughts, Emma checking the clock and her phone repeatedly, and then Regina said, "Did you ever ask him about the boys who were bullying him at school?"

"No," Emma said, insides squirming guiltily. "Did you?"

"No," Regina admitted. "I should have. It's just been -- "

"Busy," Emma finished for her. With Zelena and Mordred in town, it had been difficult to find the right time to bring it up. Plus there was that week where Henry refused to spend time with them. He had seemed fine again after Killian had talked to him, and Emma had sort of just...tucked away the need to talk to Henry about being bullied.

"When all this is over -- when we have Ian back -- and we have a second to breathe...we should talk to him. Even if it's not going on anymore, I think we need to let him know that he can always come talk to one of us -- me, you, Killian, Robin...he's not alone."

Regina nodded agreement. "And then we can talk to him about _this girl_ \-- "

"Her name's Ava," Emma cut in. "And we are _not_ going to talk to Henry about her and make him feel all weird. They're both good kids. And they're not idiots. They'll be fine. Let them do their thing."

Regina side-eyed her, chin in the air, but said, " _Fine_. I'll trust your judgement."

"Thank you," Emma said, but kept her smug smile to herself.

No need to push it.

-

When it started to get dark, Emma started to worry. Another day Ian was alone in that cave. Another night he'd spend curled up on a cold stone floor.

Killian, David, and Robin returned well after sunset, but before any of them could open their mouths, Mordred spoke up.

"I know where it is," Mordred said.

Emma whirled around to see him standing at the bars.

"What?" she asked.

"I can take you to where Zelena's hiding," he said.

Emma and Killian exchanged glances.

"Emma, can we trust him?" David asked. Beside him stood Robin, looking dubious.

Emma stepped up to Mordred's cell. "Why are you helping us?"

Mordred wouldn't meet her eyes. "My father always told me that Emma Swan was the enemy, but that's not true. Everything that happened -- to my mother, to Camelot...it was _his_ doing."

He looked at her, and in his eyes Emma saw _grief_.

"My whole life's a lie."

"I'm sorry," Emma said quietly.

He grimaced and shook his head. "The history books in Camelot always said Zelena was my father's greatest ally. But that's a lie too. She was using my father. Just like she was using me. She left me behind because she no longer had a use for me."

Emma knew he was telling the truth.

The kid needed a hug. He needed guidance. But right now, Emma needed Ian back.

"Will you help us find her?" Emma asked.

Mordred swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes."

-

Robin was tasked with taking Ava home and then gathering Belle, Mary Margaret and baby Neal into one secure location -- Regina's house, where the Merry Men were already guarding Rowan and Roland.

"I want to come with you," Henry said. 

Emma had known it was coming. "You can come on the boat but you're _staying_ on the boat, got it?"

Henry opened his mouth to protest but Emma stopped him short. "Zelena's already going to use Ian against us. We can't afford her using you against us too, okay?"

Henry just scowled stubbornly.

"Listen to me. You don't need to prove to me that you're brave. I know you are. Not being at the center of the action doesn't mean you're not a hero. Tonight I need you to help your grandpa guard Mordred, okay? You're going to be your grandpa's backup in case it turns out this is a trap."

"Do you think Mordred is lying?"

"No," she said. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to risk being wrong. Now, can you be grandpa's backup?"

"Yea."

"Ok. Grab your coat and make sure you have your scarf, too -- the one with the protection spell on it."

-

"There," Mordred said, lifting his handcuffed wrists and pointing.

Emma and Killian stood on the deck of the response boat with Mordred. Ahead of them were the cliffs, and sliced through them was a narrow, vertical crevice. The cave was far from the town, far enough away that the lights of main street were no longer visible, which made it possible to see the faint glow coming from inside the crevice.

"We've been by here," Killian said, staring at the cave and shaking his head. "If we had just stayed out longer -- past dark -- we would have seen..."

"It's okay," Emma said. "It doesn't matter. We're here now. Let's go get him."

Emma led Mordred back to the wheelhouse while Killian readied the dingy. She helped Mordred get seated on one of the benches, then turned to her dad.

"If we're not back in an hour, I want you to -- "

"Emma," David said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. You've got this. Go get Ian, and Henry and I will be right here waiting for you when you get back."

Emma took a deep, steadying breath and nodded.

"See you soon, kid," she said to Henry, then she stepped back out onto the deck.

Regina was already in the dingy. Killian took Emma's hand, helped her climb down to sit beside Regina, and then got in behind her.

"Hold tight," he said. "It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Killian rowed steadily, while the waves tossed the dingy around as if as was made of paper. Emma tried not to look down, tried not to look at the black water or think about how cold it was or how deep it was or the rocks that it was hiding. She stared fixedly over Killian's shoulder, watching the cliffs loom larger and larger until they slid into the crevice.

They were in a narrow tunnel -- narrow enough that the oars scratched the sides, and then the tunnel opened up into a large, round cavern. To one side was a bank made of stones, and beyond that Emma saw an opening in the rock wall from which the light was emitting.

Killian rowed towards the embankment, and when they heard the boat scrape bottom Killian was over the side in an instant, dragging them higher onto the stone shore. He helped Emma and then Regina out, and then the three of them followed the glow deeper into the cave, moving as stealthily as possible over the stones.

Killian drew his cutlass soundlessly and entered first with Emma close behind. She saw Ian immediately, near the back. He was sitting inside the devil's trap, forehead resting on his drawn-up knees, arms wrapped around his legs.

Emma took one step towards him but Killian grabbed her arm.

"Wait, love," he said quietly.

Ian's head snapped up, eyes going wide when he saw them, and then he looked immediately to his right.

Zelena emerged from behind a curtain. Emma caught her brief, startled expression, but then her face instantly became a calm mask.

"Took you long enough," she said.

Ian snorted. "Don't mind her," he said. "She's just upset because she's been standing behind that curtain all day waiting for you to show up."

"Shut up, you!" Zelena said. "I've had to listen to your nattering  for _two days_. But now that your parents are here I can finally kill you."

She extended her hand towards Ian, fingers bent claw-like, and Ian started choking, hands going to his throat.

"Stop!" Emma yelled. She lifted her arms, gathering her magic, but Zelena stopped her.

"Not so fast," she said, withdrawing something from her cloak. It was Killian's half of their heart. "Unless you want your son to watch both his parents die in front of him. _Again_."

She squeezed the heart, and the agony that blossomed in her chest drove her to her knees. The strangled sound that escaped Killian told Emma that he felt it too.

"Hold on a moment, something's wrong," Zelena said. The pain in Emma's chest stopped abruptly. She lifted her head to see Ian keel forward onto his hands and knees, coughing violently and sucking in deep breaths.

Killian and Regina tugged at her arm, pulling her back to her feet.

Zelena stood surveying them, tapping her lips thoughtfully with one finger. "This picture's not quite complete. Something's missing -- no, _someone_ is missing."

She gestured, and a plume of green smoke deposited Henry in between Emma and Regina.

"There!" Zelena said. "That's better. One big happy family."

Emma stared at Henry in horror as he blinked around in confusion.

"Now that _both_ your sons are here, let's continue, shall we?" Zelena held Killian's heart aloft again, and squeezed.

Emma cried out as the pain tore through her.

"MOM!" Henry shouted.

Beside her Killian grunted and bent double. Emma reached out, towards him, and found his hand reaching for hers.

Ian was shouting and swearing.

Zelena cackled.

Emma saw the flash of a fireball out of the corner of her eye, but then the pain worsened, grew in intensity until Emma thought she would black out, and Emma heard the first, resounding crack as her and Killian's heart began to fracture.

And then she saw Henry fall beside her. She turned, the fear that he was hurt overriding her own pain , and saw him sitting on the floor with a piece of paper stretched over his knee, scribbling furiously.

With the Author's pen.

She tried to shout, tried to stop him, but then Zelena hissed loudly and the pain in Emma's chest vanished.

" _Henry_ ," she rasped.

He turned and raised his fist with the piece of paper in it. Emma reached for it.

"It's okay," Henry said, "I -- "

Zelena snapped her fingers, and the paper Henry clutched disappeared from his hand and reappeared in hers. She held it up, and read, " _If Emma or Killian die, Zelena dies,_ " then started giggling. "Oh, this is even better than I could have hoped for. This'll do quite nicely. Thank you, Henry. You're so _wise_."

She flashed them all a malevolent smile, and then she was gone.

Emma wasted no time scrambling to her feet and running across the cave, only to drop to her knees in front of the devil's trap. She smeared the chalk, breaking the circle, then reached inside, grabbed Ian by his shirt and pulled him into her arms.

Ian squeezed her hard. "You found me," he said.

"Yea, kid. We found you."

Killian was next to her, his arms around both of them, his hand buried in the hair at the back of Ian's head.  

"We'll always find you, lad," he said.

-

They wrapped Ian up in Killian's coat and shuffled him off back to the boat. As they passed Henry, Emma hooked her arm through his and dragged him along.

"I'll be there in a minute," Regina said. "I want to have a look around and see if she left any clues behind."

"Ok," Emma said.

The four of them climbed back into the boat. Emma sat on one side with Ian, arm around him, afraid if she let go he'd be gone again.

Henry and Killian sat across from them.

"Mom," Henry said. "I'm sorry."

Killian put his arm around Henry's shoulders. "You don't need to apologize, lad. You did nothing wrong."

"But I gave her exactly what she wanted. Now she has another ingredient for her spell."

"Hey," Emma said, reaching across and laying her hands over Henry's, which were twisted together between his knees. "She wanted you to give up an ingredient. If she hadn't gotten it from you tonight, she would have found another way to get it from you some other night."

Emma should be panicking. Zelena had everything she needed except for Emma and Killian's baby, which meant they were her next targets. Emma should be worried, but she couldn't muster up the energy.

All she could think about was Ian and that he was safe.

" We're safe for right now," Emma said. "That's what matters, okay? We're going to go home. We're going to rest. And we're going to make a new plan tomorrow."

Henry nodded, shoulders relaxing slightly.

"How do you feel?" Killian asked Ian.

"Fine," he said wearily. "I'm just hungry."

Emma smiled. "I think I can fix that," she said, and removed a package of PopTarts from her coat pocket.

Ian's face lit up. "You are literally the best mom _ever_."

He took the PopTarts from her and opened the package with trembling fingers. The first PopTart went into his mouth, and the other he offered to Henry.

"You sure?" Henry asked.

"Yea," Ian said, and grinned. "Now, tell me about your date with Ava."

-

Emma didn't anticipated Ian's reaction to seeing Mordred, but she should have. Ian did a double take then stepped forward and punched Mordred soundly on the nose. Mordred's head snapped back, blood spraying from both nostrils.

Before anyone could react, Ian saw down heavily on the bench across from Mordred, whatever remaining bit of energy he'd had spent.

"Did you help my parents find me?" he asked.

"Yes," Mordred said thickly through the blood pouring down his face and into his mouth.

"Thank you," Ian said.

"You're welcome."

"I still hate you though," Ian added.

-

Ian fell asleep halfway back to town, and David insisted on being the one to throw him over his shoulder and carry him off the boat and up the dock. Killian was about to protest, but Emma stopped him short with a hand on his arm.

"Don't. Just -- don't. He needs this," she said. "We made him stay back with the boat. He needs to feel useful."

Killian nodded.

"What about him?" Regina asked, meaning Mordred. He stood awkwardly on the dock, cuffed hands hanging loosely in front of him and one of his arms gripped tight by Regina. There was dried blood caked all over his chin and the front of his tunic.

Emma sighed. "Back to the station. We can't set him loose until we know for sure it's safe to."

"I'll take him," Regina volunteered. "You get some rest. We'll meet tomorrow and discuss our next move."

"Ok. Good night," Emma said.

Regina poofed away in a cloud of purple smoke.

Emma hooked her arm through Henry's again, and they trailed David and Ian to the car.

Killian slipped his arm around her waist.

"Sleep at the loft?" he asked.

"Sleep at the loft," Emma agreed.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, SHORT CHAPTER!!! This is half of what I originally wrote for 47, but since in terms of content it actually splits in half perfectly (and because this week is MEGA busy starting tomorrow and I'm afraid I won't be able to devote time to really polishing up the second half and giving it the attention it deserves before I leave for Greece on Friday) I'm cheating and splitting it into two.

_10 years in the future_

It was spring. All the windows in the house were open, letting in the warmest breeze of the season so far. Emma was at the station, and Killian was minding their three little rogues plus Neal for the day.

He could hear the clacking of wooden swords from the side yard and knew the boys were occupied -- for the moment, that is. There'd been a little more friction between them than normal lately, and Killian fully expected to have to break up some sort of quarrel between them within the hour.

Jackie was sprawled on her stomach on the floor in the front room. Killian glanced over and smiled at the scene. The dog Bonny was lying across from her, patiently allowing her nails to be painted bright, glittery pink.

Jackie had asked Killian if she could do it, and he knew if he said no she'd just find a way to do it anyway somewhere he couldn't supervise her, so he'd said yes and insisted she put a towel beneath her so that, at the very least, no nail polish got on the floor. He'd also checked to make sure the nail polish was the non-toxic type for children, that way Bonny wouldn't get sick if she licked it off; she was technically Ian's dog, but truthfully she felt like part of the family, and they would all be devastated if anything bad ever happened to her.

Jackie was humming as she worked. Bonny watched her, head cocked, occasionally giving Jackie's face a little lick, which made the girl laugh.

Killian turned back to Evie.

Evie who had her mother's round face and green eyes but her father's dark hair.

Evie, who was currently refusing to eat her lunch.

She sat in her booster chair at the table, ignoring the sliced grapes, cubed cheese, and crackers Killian had artfully laid out on a plate for her.

Killian popped a grape into his mouth and chewed enthusiastically. "See?" he said, showing his teeth in a smile. "They're delicious. Alright, now you try one..."

He lifted a halved-grape to her lips.

"You eat grapes for your mother, little love; why won't you eat grapes for me?"

Evie just stared at him with her big green eyes, calmly refusing to open her mouth. Killian replaced the grape on the plate and sighed.

_The stubbornness is strong with this one._

He tried to think if Evie reminded him more of Ian or Jackie. As a toddler, Ian had joyfully eaten anything they'd put in front of him. Killian had thought Jackie had been picky with the mere handful of foods she would absolutely not touch, but Evie only wanted Cheerios and applesauce.

And she knew if she waited long enough, her daddy would eventually stop shoving grapes at her and get the box of Cheerios down from the cabinet.

With another sigh, Killian did just that.

He wasn't sure whether he should be impressed by the lass's determination, or deeply disturbed by how easily he was manipulated by a toddler. As he crossed the kitchen he noticed the sound of the wooden swords had stopped. He paused, listening. He heard their voices, and although he couldn't discern the actual words he could tell by Ian's tone that he was annoyed. There was silence, and Killian tensed, but then the sound of the wooden swords resumed, and he relaxed.

He retrieved the box of Cheerios, poured some into a small bowl, and returned to the table.

Evie accepted the bowl of cereal from him gracefully, then promptly stuffed a handful into her mouth.

"How about a grape to wash that down, hm?" Killian asked, determined to get her to eat at least _one_ measly grape.

"Nope," Evie said, and she giggled at him. It was the smuggest giggle he'd ever heard in his near-250 years.

"You learned _that_ from your mother," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and chuckling.

Suddenly, Bonny was growling. Killian looked over immediately, and saw her standing at the window that looked out onto the side yard. Jackie was next to her, peering through the glass as well, one hand resting on Bonny's head.

"Jackie, what is it?" Killian said.

"Ian and Neal are fighting," she said without looking away from whatever was happening outside.

"Fake fighting or real fighting?" Killian asked,

Jackie turned then to look at him. "Ian's gonna kill Neal."

Killian jumped up and sprinted into the front room to stand beside Jackie.

For a second he thought she had made a mistake. Ian and Neal weren't fighting, they were just arguing. Ian had his free hand laid over his sword hand as if it was hurt, and when he removed it Killian saw that his knuckles were bright red. Neal must have smacked his fingers hard with the wooden sword.

Ian looked like he was calming down, but then Neal said, " _Baby_ ," and Killian knew that was it. Ian threw his stick down and lunged.

"Watch your sister!" Killian said, and then he was bolting through the front door and running down the steps.

"IAN!" Killian shouted. He rounded the porch and saw the two boys on the ground. Ian was sitting on Neal's chest, punching every inch of him he could reach.

"Get off me!" Neal yelled.

Ian just growled wordlessly and kept hitting him.

"Ian!" Killian said again.

He reached them in five quick strides, grabbed Ian under his arms, and yanked. Ian came to his feet without a struggle, but Neal jumped up too, fists clenched. Killian turned, putting himself half in front of Ian, and planted one hand firmly on Neal's chest.

Neal's head snapped up and he glared furiously at Killian.

"Neal," Killian said calmly, "I think it's time for you to go home."

"But _he_ started it -- "

"I said _go home_ , lad," Killian said firmly.

Neal threw him one more dirty look before he stalked away across the grass. Killian heard him get on his bike and pedal away.

Killian turned to Ian. He was staring at his sneakers, shoulders slumped.

"Tell me what happened," Killian said.

"Neal hit me with his stick and I got mad so I started punching him."

You could always count on honesty with Ian, even when he knew what he said might get him in trouble.

Killian took a moment, looked away, idly admiring the buttercups blooming all around the yard while he gathered his thoughts.

Usually Ian and Neal got along fine, with only a few minor arguments here and there. Occasionally, however, it turned ugly. And Killian might be biased in believing that most of the ugliness was instigated by Neal, but so be it. Ian had a hot head, especially when it came to personal insult, but Killian had never seen him be purposefully mean.

He couldn't fault Ian for standing up for himself -- but neither could he congratulate him for hitting his uncle.

"Was punching Neal the right thing to do?" Killian said, turning back to Ian.

"No."

"You can't let your anger make your choices for you."

Ian nodded. "I know," he said quietly.

He put his fingers beneath Ian's chins and lifted it so Ian's blue eyes met his own. "Next time just walk away."

Ian opened his mouth, his intent to object clear, but Killian cut him off.

"I _know_ it's difficult," Killian continued. "I know he taunts you on purpose to get a rise out of you. But that's all it is. Words. Alright? You have to be the better person and walk away, understand?"

"Yea, I get it," Ian said.

Killian could tell he was still upset, however, so he said, "I'm actually a little proud of you."

"You are?"

"Aye," he said. "I'm not happy you hit your uncle, but I realize you could have hit him back with the stick, and you didn't."

Ian shrugged. "You said learning to swordfight was only for defense."

"You're right, it is," Killian said. That had been his rule when he'd begun teaching Ian swordplay the previous spring: it was for defending himself _only_. It wasn't a game, it wasn't to use to show off to other kids at school, it was for _survival_.

"I'm also proud because you told me the truth right now," he added. "You took responsibility for what you did and didn't try to blame it all on your uncle."

Killian could see Ian's embarrassment at the praise and moved his hand from Ian's chin to his nape, pulling the boy's forehead to his lips.

" _Dad_ ," Ian huffed. Apparently 10 was too old to get kissed by your dad in your own front yard.

Killian grinned, slung his arm over Ian's shoulders, and walked him back into the house.

 

* * *

 

_Now_

Ian slept fitfully.

He dreamt of the red door, creaking open in the woods one Halloween night; he dreamt of the cold stone floor in the cave; he dreamt of Zelena, taunting him, and he dreamt of her hurting him when she tired of taunting him.

He tried to wake up, and he nearly broke the surface of his dreams several times -- enough to hear his parents' voices in the room where he slept -- but then he was quickly pulled back under.

Ian dreamt of Mordred -- at the barn, racing to stab his mom; behind the bar, writhing on the ground while Ian held his heart -- Ian's mind tried to shy away from that, but the image played over and over and over...

 

* * *

 

Ian slept for nearly a full 24 hours, and Emma and Killian let him. They stayed at the loft, but Henry and Emma's parents gave them their space and their privacy.

Emma spent most of the day on the bed next to Ian. She sat leaned back against the headboard, her long legs stretched out before her, one arm resting along the pillows over Ian's head, idly playing with his hair while he slept, while the other rested on her belly.

They talked quietly as they watched over their son, mostly discussing how the nursery needed painting, how it needed furniture (Emma wanted a rocking chair and Killian wanted a bookshelf), and how the baby needed clothes ("He's got _one_ pair of pajamas, Killian. He needs like twenty more. Plus actual clothes. Plus socks and onesies and little hats..." the list went on and on, apparently).

After a while, Emma fell asleep too, so Killian read.

He sat in a chair next to the bed on Ian's other side, legs propped up on the mattress, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ open in his lap. He was surprised how much he enjoyed the books so far, but perhaps he shouldn't be, given how close he felt to Emma as he read. He could imagine her as a teenager, an orphan who saw herself in the orphaned hero of the book; an orphan who wanted to believe that magic existed out there somewhere, and that she too might one day find a home and a family.

These books must have given her hope. And she had _shared_ them with Killian, knowing he would make that connection.

And Henry? Henry must have felt similarly. He'd had a mother, but he'd felt unloved by that mother and out of place in his own life.

But Ian...

Killian looked up, at Ian, at the boy's sleeping face. Ian didn't know loneliness the way Killian and Emma did, nor did he know the feeling of not belonging, as Henry had. And that was a victory. That was what Killian and Emma fought every day for.

He returned his attention to the book. Would reading Harry Potter as a child have changed things for him? He certainly would have spent less time hating his father for what he'd done to him and Liam, and perhaps his nights would have passed ore easily imagining that things could get better instead of worse.

He allowed himself to get wrapped up in the story. The sky grew dark outside as Killian read. At some point, Henry came up the stairs to say goodbye -- Regina had come to pick him up, as he was going back to school the next day -- and then Killian was alone again with just the sounds of Emma and Ian's soft breathing.

More hours passed. The sounds from below became quieter. David and Mary Margaret tiptoed up to check in before whispering goodnight, planting soft kisses on both Emma and Ian's foreheads, then returning downstairs. The lights were snuffed, save for the lamp on the dresser by which Killian read. Slowly, everything became quiet around him again.

When Killian finally surfaced, it was past midnight.

Ian was still sleeping in the same position he'd been in all day. Emma had shifted, and was now lying on her side, fully beneath the covers. She looked too comfortable to move, so Killian squeezed in behind her, on top of the blankets as the temperature in the loft was more than warm enough for him, pulled her against his chest, and fell asleep with Ian at his back.

-

Killian opened his eyes a few hours later, and it took him a moment to pinpoint what had woken him. Everything was silent. Emma was still in his arms, breathing evenly -- then he realized there was no solid warmth behind him. He looked over his shoulder to check on Ian, but saw the bed was empty.

Before he could worry, he heard rustling from downstairs.

Killian carefully disentangled himself from around Emma, slipped from the bed and crept across the room and down the stairs. There was a faint, shifting reddish glow coming from below, and when Killian reached the kitchen he saw Ian sitting at the table, a banana in one hand and a mug filled with crimson flames in the other.

"Hey, dad," Ian said, clearly not surprised to see him.

"Hey, lad. Mind if I join you?"

Ian nodded and Killian slid into the chair across from him.

"Is that all you're going to eat? Aren't you hungry?" Killian asked quietly. The boy had been starved in a cave for two days, and asleep for a third.

Ian shrugged. "It's all I could find without making a lot of noise," he said, in an equally low voice, and glanced over his shoulder towards where David, Mary Margaret and Neal slept.

"If you'd like I can find you something more to eat. I don't think your grandparents would mind."

"No, it's okay. I'm fine."

Even in the dim red light and with the flickering shadows from the fire Killian could clearly see Ian's miserable expression.

"You're not fine. Something's wrong," Killian said. "Tell me what's on your mind."

Ian was silent for a moment, chewing his mouthful of banana slowly, then he said, "I keep thinking about Mordred."

"What about him?" Killian asked.

"I almost killed him."

"But you didn't."

"But I _wanted_ to."

"But you _didn't_ ," Killian said again.

"What if...okay, you and mom..." he squeezed his eyes shut. "You guys were worried I'd be evil or something because mom was the Dark One when I was, uh..."

"Conceived?"

"Yea, that. Well, what if the unicorn horn thing made a mistake and there really _is_ darkness in me?"

He opened his eyes again and fixed Killian with a fear-filled stare.

"There's darkness in _everyone_ , lad," Killian said softly, and he paused, letting it sink in. "The difference is what you do with it: whether you act on it, or whether you fight it. You faced yours down, Ian. And you resisted it. There's nothing for you to be ashamed of."

Ian looked down, licked his lips nervously. "Zelena asked me if I enjoyed hurting Mordred."

"Did you?" Killian asked automatically, not fearing the answer.

"I don't know. No. Not really. I was angry. I was just... I wanted him to feel as bad as I felt. I wanted him to suffer. But it didn't make me feel good. It just made me feel sick."

"Are you still angry with him?"

"No -- I mean, I want to punch him in the face like once a day _every_ day for the rest of my life, but...he thought mom hurt _his_ mom, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's why I was mad at him: because he hurt you and mom. So I...I guess I sort of understand."

"Can you forgive him?"

Ian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If he's willing to change, then yes."

Killian sat back, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"What?" Ian asked warily.

"Nothing. I just...I couldn't be more proud of you."

Ian looked away shook his head in embarrassment.

"Anything else you want to talk about? Did Zelena say or do anything else that's bothering you?"

Killian saw Ian tense up, and immediately regretted his question.

Zelena had _hurt_ Ian. He hadn't said as much, and there were no physical wounds that Killian or Emma could see...but Killian saw the emotional ones.

"Ian," he said, leaning forward across the table, hand darting out to grasp Ian's. "Whatever happened in that cave, it's over, understand? You're safe now."

Ian met his eyes and nodded, his mouth set firmly in grim determination.

There was a sound from the side, and Killian and Ian both startled. Killian looked up to see David shuffling towards them, emerging slowly from the darkness into the red glow from Ian's fire.

"My apologies, mate, did we wake you?" Killian said.

"Not exactly," David said. "I was sort of already awake."

Killian caught the guilty note in his voice.

"And exactly how much of our conversation did you hear?" he asked.

"Well...all of it," David said, and smiled. "I heard Ian come down, and I was about to come out and join him when I heard you come down too. Sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I just didn't want to interrupt..."

"It's alright," Killian said, waving his hand dismissively. "I understand. Small loft and all that."

"I actually...I'd like to say something, if that's alright with you," David said.

"By all means," Killian said. "I didn't know you needed my permission."

"Well, you're his father, and -- you know, you're really pushing it with that smirk."

"I'm just flattered you think so highly of me that you ask my permission to speak to your own grandson."

David rolled his eyes and turned to Ian, ignoring Killian's grinning face.

"You know about my brother James, right?" he asked.

"Yea."

"He was raised by a cruel king and became cruel in turn. Mordred reminds me a lot of him."

"He's right," Killian said. "Mordred was taught hatred at his father's knee from a young age."

Killian had _hated_ , and it had consumed and nearly destroyed him. He could never do that to his own son; he could never send Ian down that path.

"Now, I'm not saying any of that excuses what Mordred did," David continued, "but if I had the chance to go back and help my brother -- show him another path -- I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"Mordred can change," Killian added. "He just needs some help."

Emma had helped Killian change, and he felt he owed it to her and her faith in him to pay it forward.

David looked at Killian as he said, "Helping people is sort of what we do here. Even if you can't see the good in them right away, it's important to give them a chance."

 Ian leaned forward, propping one elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand, and said, "Grandpa, did you really punch my dad in the face?"

David was clearly caught off guard. "Um, just the one time. And to be fair, he knocked me out with a crow bar."

"What are you guys talking about?" Emma's voice asked. She was coming down the stairs.

"They're just sharing their dad wisdom," Mary Margaret said, also appearing.

"Bloody hell, has _everyone_ been eavesdropping?" Killian growled.

Glances were exchanged between David, Emma, and Mary Margaret, then together they all said, "Yes."

"We didn't want to interrupt," Emma said. She stood behind Killian's chair and put one hand on his shoulder while the other curled in the hair at the back of his neck.

"Well, since we're all up, wow about I make us all some pancakes?" David asked.

" _Yes_ ," Ian said. "Can you make strawberry ones?"

"Sure," David said, and ruffled Ian's hair before getting up from the table. "In, or on top?"

"Both?"

David chuckled. "I suppose I can do that."

"I'll make the hot chocolate," Mary Margaret said, following David towards the kitchen.

Killian, Emma, and Ian were momentarily alone in the glow from the crimson flames in the mug.

"I'm proud of you too, kid," Emma said. "And that is a really cool fire. You're gonna have to teach me that one."

"Ok," Ian said, smiling.

"I'm turning one of the lamps on," Mary Margaret called. "Everyone, shield your eyes!"

-

The next day at the station, Mordred talked readily. The disappointing part was that all the information he gave them only confirmed what they had all already guessed or suspected: Zelena wanted his and Emma's baby to power a new time travel spell that would take her and Rowan far, far away; to somewhere and some _time_ Regina and Robin would never be able to find them.

"And you don't know where Zelena's hiding now?" Emma asked.

"No," Mordred said. Everyone looked to Emma, who nodded to show Mordred was telling the truth.

Killian's attention was split between Emma and Regina's conversation, and Ian. The boy was across the room, sitting on a desk near the back office. He was watching Mordred steadily, arms crossed over his chest. Killian could see him chewing his lip.

"Do we start searching the woods again, or...?" Regina said.

Killian shook his head. "It would be a waste of time and energy. We only found the cave because Mordred led us to it, and she clearly intended to abandon it, which means wherever she is now, it will be impossible for us to find."

He saw Ian slide off the desk and walk over to Mordred's cell. Emma and Regina were arguing and didn't notice. Ian sat in the chair that was still sitting directly in front of the bars. He leaned forward, but he didn't say anything.

Emma's voice drew Killian back into the conversation.

"I'm telling you Zelena will _never_ recreate that spell," Emma whispered, glaring. "It's _gone_. And unless there's _another_ spell to speed up pregnancy -- "

"There isn't," Regina interjected.

"Exactly. That means we have until July."

" _Emma_ ," Regina said in exasperation.

"Look," Emma continued. "I'm not saying stopping Zelena isn't urgent, I'm just saying we don't have to worry about her taking the baby tomorrow, so our main concern isn't how to protect me, it's how to stop her. We still don't really know how we're going to catch her. Or how we're going to open the time portal again to send her back to the future."

Killian heard Mordred's speaking, and he tuned out Regina in order to listen.

"I'm sorry for what I did to your parents," Mordred said.

"Thank you for the apology," Ian said.

"I know you hate me," Mordred continued. "And I accept that."

"I don't hate you," Ian said. "I'm just...I'm mad. I love my parents. I thought I was going to die when I saw you kill them."

"I made a mistake. I thought your parents were villains. I thought they'd destroyed my family and my father's kingdom."

"But you know they didn't, right?"

"I do now, yes."

"My parents are good people. They're not the bad guys; they _fight_ the bad guys."

Emma nudged Killian, either purposely or on accident, and Killian snapped back to her and Regina's conversation.

"...you said the future versions of you and Killian are using the time portal to come here, right?"

"That's what it looks like," Emma said.

"Then we can start by restoring the trap we put around the time portal to hold it open. That way, whenever future you does show up, we can hopefully just hand over Zelena and let them take her back to the future to deal with her."

"Sounds fair," Killian said, and, having successfully contributed, turned his attention back to Ian and Mordred.

"You can stay here," Ian said.

"Stay?" Mordred asked.

"Yea. In Storybrooke. My parents can help you be a good guy too. But only if you want to change."

There was a pause --

Regina had left. Killian saw Emma half turn, and knew she was listening to Ian and Mordred too.

Finally, Mordred spoke. "I want to change," he said.

"Then stay, and let us help you."

Emma leaned into Killian, and he lifted his arm to her waist to tug her closer. They kept their backs turned to the cells, pretending they weren't listening.

"That's _your_ kid," Emma whispered.

"He's yours too, Swan," Killian said. "That's your son the future Sheriff."

"Sheriff Jones."

Killian chuckled. "It has a nice ring to it."

"Ok," Mordred said. "I'll stay."


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, not gonna lie, I feel like it's a little sloppy...and the last bits definitely aren't as flesh out as I'd like them to be, but I'm leaving for Greece TOMORROW and I won't be back for a week and a half, so that means I wouldn't otherwise have this chapter posted for like 2 weeks, so I'm just going to post it kind of sloppy and try not to feel gross about it.

_7 years in the future_

Killian returned home to find Emma and Jackie taking their usual afternoon nap together in the master bedroom. Emma was sitting leaned back against a pile of pillows with Jackie snuggled against her side. There was a stack of well-worn books lying atop the covers at Emma's feet, and one in her lap. She still had one finger stuck in between the pages, as if she'd just set it down and intended to resume reading at any moment.

Killian stopped when he saw them and just smiled. This was one of those moments -- those small moments -- in which Killian could do nothing but marvel at his own life. For nearly 200 years he'd known nothing but loss, failure, and abandonment: his mother, his father, Liam, Milah, young Baelfire. The past 7 had been filled with Emma's sunshine hair and warm smile, the sound of her voice as she whispered his name when they joined their bodies; they had been filled with Ian's laughter and his smile -- the one that wrinkled his nose -- and his relentless energy; they had been filled with Jackie's sparkling green eyes, her baby hair in tiny, precious ponytails, and her butterfly kisses.

It was one of those moments in which his oldest memories seemed to belong to another person entirely.

The dog Bonny lay curled around Jackie protectively, and as Killian approached the bed, she opened her eyes. Her tail wagged, thumping the mattress, but she didn't move.

Killian sat on the edge of the bed, reached over, and traced one finger gently over the curve of Emma's cheek. She opened her eyes, and smiled.

"Hey, love," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. I just got sleepy reading to Jackie."

Napping together had been Emma and Jackie's habit for the past few months, ever since Emma became pregnant. Her third pregnancy seemed to be tiring her out more than the others had. When they had decided to try for a third child, Emma had warned him that she wasn't as young as she used to be, though Killian had never seen any evidence supporting this -- she was the same beautiful Swan as always.

And as for Killian, well...Emma assured him that any gray hairs he had -- and there were a few -- weren't from age they were from _Ian_.

And, speak of the devil...

"So," Emma said.

" _So_ ," Killian sighed.

"Ian."

"Yes. Ian. Our son."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"What's he in trouble for this time?"

It was the first week of school, and already they'd received their first call from the principal. Killian had just returned from a conference with Ian's 2nd grade teacher.

Killian took his hook from his back pocket and showed her.

"Your hook? Seriously? He took it to _school_?"

"Aye. He had the entire classroom in an uproar. His teacher had no idea what was going on until one student informed her that Ian had brought his father's _hand_ to school."

Emma snorted.

"Then when the teacher saw that it was a hook, Ian was in trouble for having a _weapon_ in the classroom. He was rather insistent that it wasn't a weapon. I think it's the arguing that really set them off."

Emma sighed. "Why did he even bring it to school in the first place?"

"Apparently someone spread the rumor that he was lying about his father being the former Captain Hook, and he felt the need to prove he was telling the truth once and for all."

"Because _of course_ he told everyone all about you."

Killian tugged at his ear. "It appears so."

"He didn't get Enzo in trouble, did he?"

Killian chuckled. "No, this time Enzo was in no way involved. And, for the record, Enzo usually _willingly_ follows Ian into trouble."

"True," Emma said, grinning. "But Ian starts it."

"Well, yes. Ian starts it," Killian admitted.

Emma took the hook from him, held it up, turned it back and forth. Although he didn't need it anymore, Killian kept it close. It had been a part of his life for so long it was impossible to completely abandon it.

"How does he keep finding it anyway?" Emma asked.

"Well, it seems he inherited your family's talent for finding, only his specialty isn't finding people it's finding everything that's most dangerous to do and then doing it."

"He just wants to be like his dad."

Embarrassed, Killian looked away, and spied a book amongst the pile at Emma's feet that didn't quite belong.

"Looking at baby names, love?" he asked, picking up the book.

"Yea. I had to wait until Jackie fell asleep before I could take a look though."

"When are we going to tell her she's going to have a little sister?"

"I don't know. Never? I don't think she's going to be excited about the news as Ian was."

"I'm surprised he's been able to keep it a secret this long," Killian said.

"Always full of surprises, that one."

Ian already knew -- _of course_ \-- and was ecstatic, but Jackie was as of yet blissfully unaware that she was about to be dethroned by a new sister, and Emma was determined to keep it that way as long as possible.

"Did you find any names you liked?" Killian asked. He opened the book and started flipping through it.

"I don't know...nothing really feels right. I kind of like 'Branna'. It means 'hair as dark as a raven'. I know Ian and Jackie are both blonde, but I was sort of hoping this one will have dark hair like you."

"She will," Killian said without hesitation.

"Oh, now _you're_ psychic too?" she asked.

Killian grinned. Ian had a way of knowing things, sometimes. He'd known both his sisters would be girls before Emma and Killian knew.

"No," said Killian. "I'm not psychic. I've just seen her before."

"What? Where? Wait -- _what_?"

"The unicorn horn," he said simply.

"The unicorn horn? I thought you said you saw Jackie."

"I always _thought_ it was Jackie...but that little girl had brown hair, and I don't think Jackie's hair is ever going to get that dark. And the age...the age wasn't right."

Emma leaned her head back and gazed at the ceiling. "I haven't thought about the unicorn horn in _years_."

"Me either," he said, shaking his head. He continued flipping through the book. Emma was silent, and Killian was about to check and see if she'd fallen asleep again when she spoke.

"I have an idea for a middle name," she said.

Killian chuckled. "You mean you don't want to let Ian pick it again?"

Emma groaned. "Jackie's never going to forgive us. _Winter_. What were we thinking?"

"Oh, c'mon Swan," he teased. "I think Jacqueline Winter Jones is a fantastic name. And it sounds better than Jacqueline _Snow_ Jones. Anyway, what name did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking her middle name could be Saoirse, after your mom." She bit her lip. "What do you think?"

"I think it's perfect, Swan," he said. He slipped his fingers into hers, raised her hands to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Now we just need a first name," Emma said. "Branna Saoirse...it doesn't go together."

"Perhaps we could consult our little magic 8-ball when he returns from school."

Emma laughed. "He'd probably pick something from a movie -- "

"Evie," Killian said immediately, and as soon as he said it he knew it was right.

"What? Evie?"

"Aye."

"As in, from The Mummy?"

"Yes. I rather like it. Evie Jones."

Emma's eyes fluttered shut. "Oh my God. It's so cute."

"Evie Saoirse Jones," Killian said, testing it out. " _Evelyn_ Saoirse Jones. It is Evelyn, correct? In the movie?"

"Yea."

Killian leaned down and kissed Emma's stomach. "Hello, Evelyn," he said. "I know you're not quite ready to come out yet, but welcome to the family."

* * *

It was late Wednesday afternoon, and they were at The Crow's Nest. Killian itched to work -- to do something that resembled normal life, something that would take his mind off Zelena and her designs on the baby. Killian had spent the day cleaning, restocking, and checking that everything was in order for Will and Belle. Emma was sitting at the counter with her laptop open at her fingertips and a heap of papers at her elbow.

When Killian had suggested she'd take her work to the bar and spend the day with him she'd smiled like she knew his reason for asking, but she'd agreed. He glanced up at her often as he worked, needing to reassure himself that she and the baby were safe; needing to know she was close by and protected.

For hours, she'd been alternating between staring at the computer screen and writing furiously in a notebook with the pencil that was otherwise clenched between her teeth. He knew she felt him looking, but, for his sake, she pretended not to notice. Killian didn't interrupt her -- her concentrated frown and the little crease between her eyebrows were clear indicators of the fate that awaited him should he disrupt her research.

Also at the counter, at the end farthest from Emma and Killian, was Mordred. While they couldn't precisely let the boy roam free, confining him indefinitely to a cell seemed cruel, so, for lack of a better idea, they'd brought him with. Emma had suggested he read Henry's storybook, so that he might get to know the town and the people in it better. The only words he'd said all day were a murmured, "Thank you," when they'd offered him a sandwich for lunch, but otherwise he'd made no sound except for the turning of pages.

And so the day passed quietly.

Until Ian walked in.

Ian had returned to school that morning and was supposed to spend the afternoon with Henry at Regina's, but he surprised both Emma and Killian -- and nearly startled Mordred off his stool -- by storming into the bar at 3:00. Killian stopped slicing limes to watch as Ian stalked over to the counter, dropped his backpack to the floor, and hopped onto the stool next to Emma's.

"What's wrong?" Killian asked, warily eyeing the scowl on Ian's face.

Ian took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush as he said, " _I have a math test on Friday_."

Killian, Emma, and Mordred (from his secluded corner) stared.

"I've been to school for like 5 days this whole month. How do they expect me to pass this shitty test?" Ian said, looking between Killian and Emma.

Killian blinked, then glanced at Emma, who glanced back and had to bit her lip to hide her smile. It had taken the boy _one_ day of school to snap back into normal teenager mode.

Killian laid down his paring knife, slipped the towel from his shoulder and began cleaning the lime juice from his hook.

"First of all," he said, "watch your language. Second of all, I'm guessing they expect you to pass the test by studying."

Ian gaped at Killian as if what he suggested was absurd.

"You _do_ know what studying is, correct?" Killian asked.

" _Yes_ , I know what studying is. But I don't _want_ to study."

Emma snorted.

Ian looked at her, then his eyes fell to the stack of papers on the counter next to her. His whole demeanor brightened as he asked, "Is that the exam for the Sheriff's Department?"

"Yep," Emma said.

"Can I take it when you're finished?" Ian asked.

Emma raised one eyebrow. "You want to take the exam?"

"Uh-huh."

She grinned. "You know even if you pass the exam you're not getting out of school, right?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're 13. And because you have to finish college before you can be a deputy."

"What? That's not a requirement. The website says high school -- "

"It's _my_ requirement. As your _mother_ ," Emma said firmly. "So I suggest you start studying. If you want to get to college you've got to pass 7th grade first."

Ian turned to Killian. "Dad -- "

"You heard your mother," Killian said, cutting him off. "School."

" _Mom_ ," Ian pleaded.

"Wow, you really don't want to take this test, do you? What's it even on?"

"Geometry."

"Ah," Killian said. "It just so happens that I'm a fair hand at geometry. It's quite useful in -- "

"Navigation, I know," Ian said. "I'm actually pretty good at it too."

"Then why all the fuss over this test, lad?"

Ian shrugged and started pulling books from his bag and piling them on the bar. "I mean, I had to at least _try_ to get out of taking it, you know? It's never worked before, but I thought maybe with _you guys_..." he trailed off.

Killian shook his head and returned to slicing limes. He distinctly heard Emma mutter "pirate" under her breath, and when he looked up and caught her eye, he saw the twinkle in them and her soft smile.

_Part Sheriff, then, and part pirate._

Killian smirked to himself.

-

Before going home for dinner they dropped Mordred back off at the station, where Robin had volunteered to be his babysitter for the evening.

The weather was mild, so they walked, breathing in the salty perfume of the sea carried in on the breeze. It made Killian long for a crisp afternoon on the open ocean, with nothing but the blue waves and bluer sky as far as the eye could see. He imagined Emma on the quarterdeck with him, her golden hair billowing out behind her, catching the sunlight; he imagined Henry at the helm, that determined frown on his face; he imagined Ian atop the crow's nest, grin visible even from far below, his joyous laughter raining down...

They reached the station, passed Mordred into Robin's care, then turned back the way they'd come.

"Are you going to make Mordred go to school too?" Ian asked. His tone wasn't vindictive -- certainly Killian could imagine Ian thinking school a suitable penance for Mordred's past actions -- he was clearly just curious.

"I don't know what we're going to do with him," Emma admitted with a sigh. Her arm was linked with Killian's, and he felt her fidget. "I mean, if he really wants to stay in Storybrooke I guess we'll have to find a family for him to live with. But, for now...the only thing we can really do is keep him close."

Killian had felt Mordred watching the three of them at the bar and on the walk to the station. He wondered if Mordred had ever _seen_ a normal family (Killian got a little surge of warmth at the thought of family -- _his_ family).

Emma and Killian couldn't take Mordred in --it didn't make sense; it didn't feel _right_ \-- but perhaps, for the time being, they could be an example; show him the possibilities a family offered, as Emma, her parents, and Henry had once done for Killian.

Killian slipped his hand around Emma's waist, and slung his hook arm over Ian's shoulder.

 _His_ family.

As they rounded a corner and the yellow bug, parked in front of the bar, came into view, Killian asked, "Granny's, or breakfast for dinner at home?"

"Breakfast!" Emma and Ian both said, without hesitation.

-

After dinner and after Ian had studied for an hour (with Killian right beside him, looking over his shoulder, making small corrections here and there), they retired to the den to watch a movie before bed.

Ian picked Raiders of the Lost Ark, and afterwards Killian turned to Emma, reaching along the back of the couch to tug playfully at her hair, and said, "Perhaps we should name the baby 'Indiana', instead."

Ian's head whipped around and he shot Killian a glare. "Don't you _dare_ ," he growled.

"Why not? I thought he was your hero," Killian teased, amused by the intensity in  Ian's gaze.

He gave Killian that 'you're being obtuse look' that Emma claimed was just a teenager thing but Killian was certain was a Charming family trait, and said, "Why would I want to be Indiana Jones when I'm _already_ Killian Jones?"

Before Killian could muster a response, Ian continued, "Besides, mom picked out my name, so I'm pretty sure that means she's the one who gets to decide to change it or not."

"He's right," Emma said, smiling proudly. "It's staying. One Killian Jones in my life is clearly not enough. I need two."

-

Ian didn't protest when they shuffled him off to bed. Physically, he still seemed to be recovering, although Killian could tell that, as much as he complained, returning to school and a normal routine had lifted his spirits. Emma and Killian said their goodnights and went to their own bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Emma pulled her sweater over her head, and as she tossed it into the hamper, she asked, "Are you excited about the ultrasound tomorrow?"

Killian froze, his shirt off, his jeans halfway down his thighs.

"What?" Emma asked, catching sight of his stricken face.

"Emma...I forgot."

" _You_? You, Mr. Pamphlets? You forgot?"

Killian stepped out of his jeans and pitched them into the hamper, then stood there uncomfortably, shame making his cheeks hot.

"My apologies, love," he said, scrubbing his hand through his hair. "I haven't quite been myself, since..." He gestured helplessly, unsure what to say, how to apologize for being scum, for being the _absolute_ worst --

Emma caught his flailing hand and settled it against her chest, over her heart. He felt it beating steadily beneath his fingers.

"Hey, it's okay," she said. "It's been crazy around here. It's okay that you forgot.

He nodded, attempted a smile but it was a weak one.

She started to move his hand towards her stomach, but he pulled it away and dropped it to his side. He could see the hurt on her face but he just...he couldn't. His hand clenched, so tightly his knuckles ached.

"Killian? What's wrong?" she asked. When he could only shake his wordlessly her tone became light and coaxing. "Usually you've got your hand all over my stomach. But you haven't touched me all week."

Her fingers brushed his hand, and he felt the tension inside him ease slightly.

"I'm afraid of feeling the baby move again," he admitted.

" _What_?"

"Emma..." he said slowly. "I don't have my heart. I can't feel things -- emotions -- like I'm supposed to. Feeling the baby move before, it's...I've never felt happier." He risked a glance at her face saw her confusion, the mix of happiness and hurt on her face, and plowed on. "I'm afraid I'll feel the baby move, but I won't _feel_ anything."

"Killian, we share a heart, and my half's still here, so..."

Emma took his hand again and Killian let her. He held his breath as she guided it to her stomach and flattened his palm against her belly. Killian ignored the fear constricting his chest and concentrated on the feel of her beneath his fingers. Her belly had that firmness that was peculiar to pregnancy, and her skin was still warm from the sweater. After a moment, Killian felt a bump, and joy replaced the fear in his chest.

"Did you feel it?" Emma asked, smiling like she already knew the answer.

"Aye," he said softly.

"And?"

The warmth inside him abruptly died and turned cold.

"What if I can't protect him?" Killian asked. "Zelena has bested me every time -- "

Emma's hand curled around his wrist. "Hey, it's not just on you, okay? We're going to protect this baby _together_."

"I don't want you to have to -- "

"You don't want me to have to what? Lift a finger to protect our kid?" she said, and fixed him in place with a glare. "This kid is ours to protect _together_. We work better that way, Killian. You _know_ that. That's how it's always been, and that's how it's always going to be."

"I know, but -- "

"Not being able to protect Ian or the baby from everything on your own doesn't make you a failure. Don't hold yourself to an impossible standard."

She didn't say " _again_ ", but Killian heard it in her voice.

"Please stop trying to bear the burden of keeping our kid safe on your own shoulders, okay?"

Killian chuckled. "Aye, love, you're right. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. Not to me, at least."

"Oh? Then to whom?"

"To the baby, for not letting him kick you all week."

"My apologies, little lad," Killian said. He pressed his hand a little more firmly against Emma's belly, and felt a harder kick.

"Mm, that was a good one," Killian said.

Emma made a face. "How can somebody so small kick so hard?"

"Does it hurt you?"

"No," Emma reassured him quickly. "It's just kind of uncomfortable, you know? Well, physically, at least. I really like feeling him move around. He just knows all the worst places to dig his little toes into."

"Let me help," Killian said, and led her to the bed. He sat against the headboard and helped her get settled in his lap, leaned back on his chest. He rubbed gentle circles on her belly, and slowly she relaxed in his arms. He rested his cheek against her temple and closed his eyes.

"You know," Emma said, after a while. "I think you need to apologize to _other_ places for not touching them all week too."

Turning his face into her hair and smirking, Killian trailed his hand upwards to her breasts. Emma sighed and relaxed into his arms even further. He loved the feeling of their fullness in his hand, and savored every little shudder of pleasure from her and every sigh that slipped from her lips as he massaged them, one and then the other, gently teasing her nipples into taut peaks.

His hard length was pressed against Emma's back, trapped by the fabric of his boxer briefs, and when she shifted against him, he let out a moan. His hand left her breasts, and a small sound of protest issued from Emma, but it turned into a gasp when his fingers slipped into her underwear and found her slick core. He dragged his fingers through her folds, swirling them when he reached the bud at the top, and then plunged back down, dipping a finger inside her and curling it.

Her hips bucked into his hand, but he used his stump arm against her middle to keep her firmly in his lap.

"How would you like me to apologize, Swan?" he breathed into her ear. "With my fingers, or with my cock?"

He nipped at her earlobe, and at the same time ground himself into her backside. She didn't answer, she just rose from the bed, shed the rest of her clothes, helped him shed his, then straddled him.

She paused, and for a moment he was stunned by her beauty; by her long, golden hair splayed across her shoulders and down her front; by her lips, playfully smirking at him; by her flushed, pink core, hovering inches over his straining cock; by her full breasts and darkening nipples over the round swell of her belly -- the belly that held their growing child, the product of their love.

"Emma, you're _beautiful_ ," he said, and he almost blushed at how much like a schoolboy he sounded.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she looked away.

"I'm not just saying that, love. I mean it." He placed his hand on her stomach, fingers splayed wide. " _This_. Our child growing inside you... I'm going to remember how you look right now for the rest of my life. Just as I'll always remember how you looked in the meadow in Camelot."

She raised her eyes to his.

"A lot has happened between us in a short amount of time," he said, "but I don't regret any of it, because it led us to here."

She leaned forward and kissed him, and at the same time lowered herself slowly, allowing him to sink into her warmth. He moaned into her mouth, then sucked her lower lip between his teeth as she clenched her walls hard around him.

" _Gods_ , Emma," he breathed.

She started moving, rolling her hips against his, and all he could do was hold her. His face was buried against her neck, his fingers were buried in her hair, and his blunted arm was wrapped tight around her waist. He listened to the sounds spilling from her lips, to his name whispered like a prayer. He inhaled the scent of her skin. He basked in her heat.

When his pleasure peaked he surrendered himself to it, and when he came down he reversed his and Emma's positions, carefully laying her back against the pillows and settling between her thighs.

"Killian, wait -- "

"It's fine, love," he said, and lapped at her opening, at his seed spilling from her. She gripped his hair, pressing his mouth to her core, and he obliged. It took only a few swirls of his tongue through her folds before she was trembling in his grasp. He held her steady, easing the pressure of his tongue as she relaxed in increments.

"Kiss me," she said.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, I want to taste us," she said.

He rose up on his knees, planted his hand and his stump on either side of her and leaned down. He kissed her slowly, letting her dip her tongue into his mouth first. She deepened the kiss instantly. Her hands found the back of his neck and pulled his mouth harder against hers. He slipped forward, and his cock, already hard again, brushed against her slick center. Emma moaned at the contact.

"What do you say, Swan? Care to go again?"

"Mmhm," she said, smiling against his lips, her eyes glinting wickedly. "You have a whole week to make up for, _Captain_."

She reached up, grabbed his necklace, and pulled her lips to his once more.

-

The next morning Killian and Emma dropped Ian off at school and then drove to the hospital for Emma's ultrasound.

As they sat in the waiting room, Emma was squirming in her seat.

"Swan, are you quite alright?"

"I have to pee," she said.

"Then perhaps you should go to the bathroom."

"I can't. The doctor specifically said to try and have a full bladder," she said, then added in an undertone, "Like that's even hard these days."

Killian laughed, but quickly stifled it when the door opened and their doctor appeared.

"Emma Swan?"

-

"Are you two excited?" the doctor asked politely and she moved the probe over Emma's belly.

"Yes," Emma said.

"Aye," Killian agreed, though even to his ears his voice sounded strained.

He'd read that at 20 weeks doctors performed what was called an anomaly scan to ensure that the baby was developing normally. The doctor nodded, continued to stare at the screen with narrowed eyes, gaze raking back and forth. The monitor was turned away from him and Emma, and it was beginning to make him nervous. Did it usually take this long?

Emma must have heard the edge to his voice, because she tuned to smile at him reassuringly and squeeze his hand.

"Well, I know I told you this at your last ultrasound at 16 weeks, but you're definitely having a boy, so congratulations. Have you started picking out names?"

"Um, we're going to name him Killian," Emma said.

The doctor glanced at Killian. "Like his father. That's very cute. How about a middle name?"

"David," Killian said. "For Emma's father."

"Last name? I understand you two aren't married. Will little Killian be a Swan, or a Jones?"

Killian was about to say it wasn't any of her business, but Emma squeezed his hand hard and she said, "He'll be a Jones."

Finally, the doctor leaned back, and she was smiling. "Physically, the baby looks perfectly healthy. If you would like, however, there are tests -- "

"No, we're okay," Emma said quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"We're certain," Killian said.

"Ok. Would you like to see little Killian, then?"

" _Yes_ ," Killian and Emma said together.

The doctor turned the monitor, and the fierce joy that swelled in Killian's chest was so overwhelming that Killian forgot he currently didn't have a heart.

"Is that _really_ him?" he asked.

"It is," the doctor answered, nodding.

Whereas before the tiny bean on the ultrasounds had looked baby- _ish_ , this time Killian was looking at a baby --  a baby the length of a banana, but a _baby_.

"The lighter areas are denser, so everything that's white is bone. Here's his spine," she traced a finger along the monitor, underlining what looked like a string of pearls along the baby's back. "Here's his leg, ribs, you can see bits of his skull..."

On the baby's chest was a small, dark patch pulsing rhythmically.

"Is that his heartbeat?" Killian asked, leaning closer.

"Yep."

The baby started moving. His legs darting forward, stretching out straight as far as they could go, and then he kicked, drumming his heels repeatedly against Emma's insides. _Now_ Killian understood what Emma had meant when she'd described the baby's movements to him.

Without thinking, Killian moved his hand to lay across Emma's belly. He felt the stickiness of the gel against his fingers, but ignored it.

"You're not being very nice to your mother, lad," Killian said, and as if the baby heard him, he stopped kicking, curled his legs back to his chest, and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

The doctor laughed. "Well, I've never seen that before."

"He definitely loves his dad," Emma said, throwing him a secretive smile. Killian grinned back.

"Would you two like to see the baby in 4D?"

"What's that?" Killian asked.

Emma smiled at him. "Wait 'til you see this..."

-

That night, Killian, Emma, the boys, and Emma's parents gathered at the bar before opening, and Killian showed off the ultrasound. He followed it as it was passed from hand to hand down the counter, afraid to let it out of his sight.

"Oh my God, he's smiling!" Mary Margaret gushed.

"Wow," David said, when Mary Margaret handed him the photo. "That's incredible. He already sort of looks like you, Killian."

"Well," Killian said, gesturing towards Ian, "You see the evidence there before you."

When David was finished, Killian took the photo back and then tucked it safely away in his wallet, next to the others.

David cleared his throat suddenly. "So, um, Emma..." he said, in the sort of casual voice that made Emma groan.

" _What_?' she asked.

"Your mother and I were thinking -- "

"And?"

" _And_ we thought since, you know, since you have a crib in the nursery now, that maybe it's time you guys got some, um, other things for the baby too."

"Ok..." Emma said, waiting.

"We want to throw you a baby shower!" Mary Margaret blurted.

"No," Emma said immediately.

Mary Margaret looked brought up short. "But, Emma..."

"You don't want one?" David asked.

"No."

"But...why not?" David glanced to the side, to the back of the bar where Henry was helping Ian study at one of the tables.  "Is it because of Henry?"

"No, it's not because of Henry. It's just...not my sort of thing. Like, at all. I don't want a big fuss."

"We want to do something for you though," Mary Margaret said, with just the hint of a whine.

"Are you sure there isn't anything special you want your mother and I to do for you?" David said.

Emma looked at Killian, who gave the tiniest shrug of his shoulders in response -- it was her decision.

"You can help Killian and Henry paint the nursery," Emma said, turning back to her parents.

Killian groaned. "You should see what she's got planned. It's going to take _ages_."

"Ooh, tell me!" Mary Margaret said, and leaned in eagerly.

"She wants stripes."

"Only on one wall!" Emma said.

"Trust me, stripes are _nothing_ ," David said. "You should have seen Mary Margaret's original plans for Emma's nursery...she wanted a mural around the _whole room_."

"Yes, that's very nice, but were _you_ the one painting it?"

"Well, no..."

"Precisely my point," Killian said.

Emma rolled her eyes.

-

David and Mary Margaret left early to return home to Neal. By 9 o'clock Ian and Henry were yawning, and Will and Belle were pushing Killian out from behind the counter.

The boys were out the door and Emma and Killian were about to follow when Belle stopped them.

"Oh, Killian! I almost forgot something."

"Yes?" he said, turning back.

"I found something in the shop that I thought you might be interested in."

"What is it?"

"It's...it's your hand."

"You still have that?" he asked.

"Yes. And, um, what would you like me to do with it, exactly?"

"Oooh, you know what you can do with it?" Ian said eagerly, reappearing in the doorway. Everyone looked at him. "You can tie a little string around the wrist, and mom could hang it from her rear view mirror. You know? Kind of like those fuzzy...dice...no? Too soon?"

"Too _weird_ , kid," Emma said, and Henry snorted in amusement.

"Sorry," Ian said, and ducked back outside.

Belle was still waiting for an answer.

"Would you mind holding onto it for me?" Killian said, grimacing.

"Don't you want to try to reattach it?" Belle asked. "I'm sure there's some spell I could find that would work."

"I don't...I don't know that that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Henry asked.

Killian felt beyond uncomfortable. He rubbed behind his ear nervously. "It's just...it's just not."

Emma came to his rescue. "Belle, can you just, um, hold onto it for now?"

"Sure, sure," Belle agreed, although she looked perplexed. And Killian couldn't blame her. What man wouldn't want his hand back?

_A man who fear what that hand might turn him back into._

-

Back at home, Henry and Ian shuffled off to bed, yawning immensely. Killian and Emma went to their own room and closed the door.

"Ok, what's going on with you and the hand?" Emma asked. "Is it because of what happened last time? You know, what Gold said about it turning you back into a villain?"

"Aye," Killian said stiffly.

Emma smoothed her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. "You know Gold just said that to mess with your head, right?"

Killian looked away.

"Killian," she said softly. "Hey, look at me."

He did.

"Your hand's not cursed. Getting it back won't change who you are now. But if you don't want it back, then that's fine. Whatever you decide, I support you."

"You're not...you wouldn't rather have me whole?"

She kissed the blunted end of his arm. Killian suddenly felt embarrassed.

"Have I ever given you the impression that this makes me uncomfortable?"

"Truthfully, no," he admitted.

"Ok, then," she said. "Is there any other reason you don't want your hand back?"

Killian hesitated. "When I touched the unicorn horn, I saw myself with two hands in the future."

"Yea," Emma said. "I did too."

"And I'm not..." he trailed off. His hand rose impulsively to tug his earlobe. "I'm not sure if it's a quirk of the unicorn horn, or a truthful depiction of the future -- it's only meant to show our child's future, after all."

Emma nodded, watching him.

"Did you -- when you and Ian were in the dream world, and you saw us...did I have two hands? Did you see?"

Emma smiled. "I saw."

His eyes searched hers. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I want you to make your own decision," she said. "If you want your hand back, then we'll figure out a way to reattach it. If you don't...then we should probably just find a safe place to store it so Belle doesn't have to stare at it all day."

"Are you certain?" he pressed.

" _Yes_ , Killian. I'm positive. Having your hand or not having your hand doesn't change the man that you are, okay?"

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"Okay," he said.

* * *

 

Ian waited until he couldn't hear the sound of his parents' voices anymore, then he said, "Hey, Henry?"

"Hm?" came Henry's voice from the darkness somewhere to Ian's right.

"I've got to tell you something."

"What?"

"You know how mom and dad keep saying I'm gonna be born in July?"

"Yea?"

"Well, my birthday's not in July. My birthday's not even close to July."

Ian heard Henry sit up.

"When's your birthday?"

"March."

"When in March?"

"Like, _really_ _soon_ in March. And, I mean...mom's pretty pregnant but she doesn't look pregnant enough to give birth in two weeks...right? Like, I'm not a pregnancy expert, but..."

He let the sentence hang. Henry was silent. Ian wished the room wasn't pitch black so he could see Henry's face, understand what he was thinking.

"Zelena's going to speed up her pregnancy," Henry said finally.

"Yea."

"Should we...can we tell her?"

"I don't think so," Ian said. "I mean, if we stop it, and I'm born in July instead of March...how much would that change?"

"Probably a lot," Henry admitted, the he huffed. "So we have to sit around and wait for Zelena to hurt our mom?"

Ian swallowed hard. "Yea."


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll probably be another full week (maybe more) before the next chapter is posted. I have some serious work biz to attend to. Thank you again for your patience!

It was Friday. Ian stared hard at the math test on his desk, trying to make sense of the triangles and quadrilaterals and what he was being asked to do with them, but there was only one thought rattling around in his head: Zelena was going to speed up his mom's pregnancy sometime within the next week and a half.

That knowledge sat heavy as a boulder in his stomach. It had been difficult to look at his parents that morning, knowing what was in store for them and knowing there was nothing he could do. They were already so worried about so many things; they didn't need _this_ , too.

He pulled his head up, sucking in a deep breath, and turned his eyes to the window.

The sky was a pristine blue with just a few wispy white clouds. This was his favorite time of year. Spring was drawing near, bringing warmer weather, yet the air still retained a bit of that sharp, fresh bite of winter. It was almost time to prepare the Jolly Roger for her first excursion after a winter at the docks, an excursion Ian and his dad always made together.

And of course, it would be his birthday soon.

That is, if he didn't change anything.

He had no memories of being an infant, but he'd seen plenty of pictures. There was one of him and his dad at the beach when he was 5 months old. They were on the shore, just at the point where the waves thinned out before curling back into the sea. Ian sat on the sand in his diaper, smiling down happily at the water tickling his toes. His dad sat behind him, supporting him, laughing up at Emma, who had taken the picture.

If he was born in July as he was meant to be that moment would never happen.

And in order for that moment to happen he'd have to stand by and do nothing while Zelena used dark magic to hurt his mom.

Suddenly he was hot with anger. He gripped the edges of the desk hard. He felt his magic rise up in him, unbidden, and then his desk was vibrating beneath his hands.

"Killian."

Ian blinked and focused on Ms. Sullivan, sitting at her desk in the front of the classroom. She was peering at him over the top of her glasses.

Ian stuffed his hands into his lap, afraid she had noticed him accidentally using magic, but all she said was, "Are you finished with the test?"

"Um, no," he said.

She raised her eyebrows pointedly and Ian hurriedly snatched up his pencil and bent his head over his test.

After class he headed to his locker. He pushed through the crowd of students in the hallway, deftly avoiding two girls who giggled too much and seemed determined to corner him, ignoring the knock to his shoulder delivered by Scott, the kid he'd gotten into a fight with a month ago.

When he opened his locker he found a note from Henry inside.

 _I found a place,_ it read in Henry's neat cursive. Next to it was a small doodle of an octopus.

Ian smiled.

_Operation Octopus._

It was a welcome distraction, and now -- with his birth looming -- more of a necessity than ever.

-

Ian skipped lunch to meet Henry. As all the upperclassmen were in the cafeteria, the hallway on the third floor was deserted and Ian had no trouble finding Henry. He laughed when he saw the place Henry had picked out.

"I thought you'd like it," Henry said. "Can you get the stuff?"

"Yea, hold on," Ian said.

He closed his eyes and pictured Henry's room at Regina's house. Underneath his bed they'd hidden a small cauldron and a bag containing all the ingredients they'd manage to pilfer so far -- all the mundane elements that hadn't required any breaking and entering. He summoned it, and when he opened his eyes both cauldron and bag were sitting on the tiled floor between him and Henry.

Henry scooped the bag off the floor and tossed it to him, then hefted the cauldron into his arms.

"Should I put it on the -- "

"Yes," Ian answered immediately, grinning.

As Henry hobbled away with the cauldron, Ian knelt and emptied the bag onto the floor. He lined the vials up in a neat row, then unfolded the instructions for the Memory Curse and went down the checklist.

"Ok," he said, when Henry rejoined him. "We have everything we need to get started. The first set of ingredients needs to brew for seven days."

Henry nodded studiously.

"After that we can add the final set of ingredients. That stuff needs to be added in the right order at the right time, and we'll only have about an hour to do it otherwise the entire thing will just implode."

"Oh," Henry said. "No pressure then."

"Don't worry," said Ian. "It sounds harder than it is, but that's just because the person who wrote the Memory Curse didn't have a digital stopwatch."

Henry grinned.

-

Ian used a bit of magic to ensure that their potion wouldn't be disturbed, then he and Henry left for the cafeteria, hoping to get at least one bite of lunch in before their afternoon classes started.

They ran down the stairs, and as they reached the first floor landing Henry grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Hey, are you going to be able to keep all this a secret?"

"What? Yea! Why would I tell anyone about the Memory Curse?"

"No, I meant about your birthday."

"Oh, uh..." Ian squirmed guiltily. He felt like Henry could see right through him. "What if we...what if we could tell them but convince them not to change it? To let it happen? I mean, shouldn't we warn them?"

_Can we please warn them?_

Henry eyed him steadily. "What if warning them accidentally changes it? Even if we tell them not to?"

Ian looked away. He hadn't thought of that.

"We _have_ to keep it a secret," Henry said firmly. "It sucks. It's going to be _really_ hard. But we _have_ to."

"I know," Ian said. "I know. Ok. I can keep it a secret."

"Are you _sure_?"

" _Yes_."

Henry looked at him a moment longer, then released his arm.

* * *

It was Monday. Emma, Killian, and the boys were at the station. Killian was in the back office with Henry, helping him with his math homework. Emma and Ian were sitting across from each other at her desk. There was a pile of bracelets, necklaces, watches, hats, and scarves between them -- all the objects they'd placed protection charms on for Robin and Regina, Roland and Rowan, her parents and Neal, Will Scarlet, Belle, the Merry Men, the dwarves, Marco, and even Granny.

They were giving them a bit of an upgrade, trying to patch up holes in the original spell. With any luck, Zelena would no longer be able to use magic to transport anyone anywhere they didn't want to go -- as long as they were wearing a protection charm, that is.

Regina was out placing protective spells on people's hearts -- the physical component involved in ripping out someone's heart made it impossible to weave _that_ sort of protection into the wearable charms, which was why Zelena had been able to take Killian's.

Emma glanced up from Henry's scarf to check on Ian. He was scowling down at the thin gold bracelet he held, the one Rowan would be wearing. He was distracted -- both boys were, actually. And they were clearly trying to avoid her.

Emma had studied them all weekend, trying to figure out which one was keeping the secret, and which one just knew about the secret. After a weekend of Henry being more interested than usual in his homework (and in doing his homework in a room not occupied by her) and Ian being snappish (to the point where, on Sunday, Regina had been surprised into absolute speechlessness by the cutting reply he delivered in response to one relatively innocent comment she voiced) Emma decided it was Ian who had the secret.

She watched his agitation increase as the days wore on, until finally she gave up wondering when he would cave and tell her what was on his mind and realized she'd just have to pry it out of him.

Before he accidentally hurt someone.

As he was about to do now if he remained completely unfocused. Magic spilled from him unshaped and undirected. It flowed across the desk, and when it touched her papers they burst into flame.

Surprised, Emma leaned back quickly in her chair, away from the sudden explosion of heat. Ian jumped, startled, and immediately waved his hand to try and smother the fire. All he managed to do, however, was send the flaming papers flying into the air.

" _Shit!_ " he swore loudly.

Killian and Henry burst out of the back office, yelling.

" _EMMA_!" Killian shouted.

Emma came back to her senses with a start, and waved her own hand. The burning papers disappeared before they could touch ground, leaving nothing behind but a bit of ash that drifted down slowly to speckle her desk and Ian's hair.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Killian barked.

Ian stood staring helplessly upwards, shock and distress written clearly across his face.

"Those weren't, um, important or anything...were they?" he asked weakly, blinking and turning worried eyes on Emma.

Emma took a deep breath to calm herself. "Those were the test booklets for the exam tomorrow, but it's fine. I can make more."

Ian's shoulders slumped.

Emma crossed her arms and said, "Ok kid, spill it. What's going on with you?"

"Ian -- " Henry said, but Ian didn't hear him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and said through clenched teeth, "My birthday's in March."

Emma's first thought was that March started next week and they should probably throw Ian a birthday party, but then the full implication of his statement hit her.

Emma looked to Killian. He was frozen. He tore his gaze from Ian, fixed her for a moment with terrified eyes, then looked at her stomach. Both her hands rose immediately to her belly, cradling the bump protectively as if willpower alone could stop the inevitable.

Without opening his eyes, Ian sat back down heavily in his chair and buried his face in his hands.

" _Fuck_ ," she heard him mumble.

Emma turned back to Ian. She swallowed hard before asking, "When exactly in March?"

He didn't say anything.

Which meant it was soon.

 _Too soon_.

"Are you... _sure_?" she asked tremulously.

Ian pulled his head out of his hands, mouth twisted half in amusement, half in annoyance. " _Mom_. I think I know when my own birthday is."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" she asked, without really meaning to. She heard a note of accusation in her voice and bit her lip hard in regret.

" _I don't know_!" Ian said, gesturing helplessly. "I don't _know_ how pregnancy works! _I've_ never been pregnant before so I thought maybe your stomach was just small when you had me or something." His voice was high-pitched, and he was speaking too fast.

Emma heard Killian start to move, but she moved first. She rounded the desk, and as she did Ian came to his feet. Emma hugged him, painfully tight, clutching him fiercely.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"For not telling you."

"It's okay. It's --," she closed her eyes, buried her face in his hair. Killian arrived at her side, his hand finding the small of her back and rubbing small, comforting circles there."Remember in the cave? When I told you it's not your responsibility to warn me and your dad about everything that happens in our future? I meant it, okay?"

Ian nodded into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," she continued. "I'm just...I'm scared."

"Don't be," Ian said, and pulled away from her. "Zelena's gonna make me be born sooner, but that's okay."

"It is?"

"Yea," he said, and grinned -- a full, confident, _Ian_ sort of grin. "I actually think having a March birthday is cooler than having a July birthday anyway."

"But what if we...change it?" she asked. The need to protect the baby, to keep him from Zelena, rose up in her suddenly.

"You _can't_ change it," Henry said.

"Henry's right, love," Killian said. "That would likely have serious consequences."

"It would _completely_ rewrite the future."

"What else is new?" Emma asked, a bit defensively. "We've probably _already_ altered it -- "

As she said it, she remembered her and Killian in the future, allowing Zelena to believe she'd killed them, then letting Ian chase after her into the time portal.

It was as if they'd _known_.

Ian and Henry looked at each, and then Henry turned to Emma and said, "I think it's time we told you about Operation Octopus."

-

"A Memory Curse?" Emma asked incredulously, after Henry and Ian had explained.

"It makes sense," Ian said. "The missing pages in the book, you guys tricking Zelena..."

"Emma," Killian said gently. "Think about what you told me before. About how the future Ian came from is being fulfilled, not rewritten."

"No -- I mean, I understand that it makes sense. But...a curse? _Really_? It couldn't have been anything else? It _had_ to be a curse?"

Ian shrugged. "Yes," he said.

"It's not like it'll be the first time," Henry said.

Emma sat back in her chair and sighed, resigned. "Why did you and Henry think _you_ had to do that? Why didn't you come to us?"

"At first I thought maybe only Henry should know because he's the one who's going to keep everyone's memories safe. But then...well, you guys kind of had other things to take care of," Ian said, trailing off.

" _You_ are what we need to take care of," Killian said. "You and Henry. _You're_ what matters. Understand? Everything your mother and I do is for you two."

Ian blushed. Henry looked down in embarrassment, cheeks pink.

"You two can always come to us for anything," Emma added. "Alright? We love you. We just want to make sure you're safe and you're happy."

Both boys nodded.

"From now on, count us in on Operation Octopus," Killian said.

"Well, um, if you're in..." Ian said. "Remember how you said that if Operation Octopus ever required more breaking and entering that we should come to you?"

Emma snorted.

"And what precisely, pray tell, do you two need that requires thievery?" Killian asked.

Ian held his hand out, palm up, and a folded piece of paper appeared there. He unfolded it and handed it to Emma. It was a page ripped from a spell book, and it contained instructions for how to brew and cast a Memory Curse. Next to the original text were notes in writing that Emma knew must be Ian's -- it was easy to recognize because it reminded her of Killian's.

"We already started brewing the curse, but we're missing a few things. The final ingredients..."

"It isn't a heart or something, is it?" Emma asked, wrinkling her nose.

"No," Ian said, smiling, "Just normal potion stuff."

"The curse requires one ounce of _dead spiders_?" Killian was reading the paper over her shoulder.

"I wish I could say I didn't know where to find that but I do," Ian said, face screwed up in disgust.

"Let me guess," Emma said. "It's in Regina's vault."

"Yea, the rest of what we need is."

"So you need us to ask Regina to get it for you?"

"Or, you know, we could pull off a family heist. That'd be cool too."

"I think we're just gonna ask her," Emma said.

"Are you sure? I mean, we could all get matching t-shirts...maybe have a theme song..."

" _Asking_ ," Emma said, throwing him a stern glare.

"Wait," Killian said abruptly. " _Where_ are you two brewing this Memory Curse?"

"School," Henry said simply.

" _School_? How are you brewing this at school?" Emma asked.

Henry and Ian shifted in their chairs, half-smiling at each other. "Well, there's this out-of-order girl's bathroom..."

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"Uh, no," Ian said.

"Was it out of order to begin with, or did you make it out of order?"

"We sort of made it out of order," Ian said, and when Henry raised his eyebrows at him, Ian amended, " _I_ sort of made it out of order."

Emma couldn't help it: she laughed. Beside her, Killian chuckled.

"Okay, okay, okay," she said, when her giggles had finally subsided. " _Please_ tell me you've got a cauldron in there and everything."

"We do," Ian said. "We even set it up on top of a toilet."

"And is there a ghost girl, as well?" Killian asked.

Ian and Henry's faces both lit up with pure joy, and then the four of them started laughing again.

-

They called Regina, Robin, and her parents over to their house that evening and filled them in. The expressions on the faces gathered around the kitchen table grew more and more sober as Emma talked, until Emma felt a current in the air, like the pressure changes before a storm.

"Do we know _how_ she's going to achieve this?" Regina asked. She was sitting across the table from Emma.

"No," Emma said. "But it doesn't matter. However it needs to happen is how it's going to happen."

Killian's hand tightened on hers.

"Okay," David said, taking a deep breath and seeming to shake himself out of deep thought. "Okay. We have to let Zelena speed up Emma's pregnancy. That doesn't mean we have to let her take the baby."

He looked at Emma, and then he looked at Killian, who nodded tightly.

"Aye," he said. "We may be saying hello to the babe sooner than anticipated, but we shan't be saying goodbye. The witch won't lay a hand on our child."

They ate dinner crowded in the kitchen, some at the table, some standing. They traded strategies as they ate, and slowly the knot in Emma's chest loosened. Killian looked more relaxed as well. They weren't alone in this. They had their family to help them protect the baby. They would let Zelena speed up her pregnancy, but that was as far as it went.

After they ate, Regina cleared her throat and looked pointedly at Emma, then to Henry.

"Oh, um, Henry?" Emma said. "There's something we want to talk to you about."

Henry looked at her curiously, and then at Regina.

"We want to talk to you about bullying," Regina said.

Henry rolled his eyes. "That was like...months ago. It's fine. It doesn't matter anymore."

"It _does_ matter," said Emma. "It matters because _you_ matter."

Henry squirmed in his chair, clearly uncomfortable.

"Ian," Killian said suddenly. "Why don't you take Roland into the den?"

Ian blinked at him. "What?"

Roland's eyes lit up, and he gave a little gasp. "Do you have _toys_ in there?"

Robin jumped in. "Maybe you could take Rowan, too," he said, and before Ian could protest Robin was urging Ian to his feet and easing Rowan into his arms.

Emma saw Ian's back go completely stiff. He stood as still as a statue, looking down with dread at the baby in his arms. Rowan was awake, gazing calmly back up at him.

"There," Robin said, smiling reassuringly. "Not so bad, is it?"

"What do I do if she starts crying?" Ian asked gruffly

Killian made a sound in his throat that sounded like a strangled laugh, and he shifted positions, dropping his chin into his hand, fingers along his lips to hide his grin. David and Mary Margaret weren't bothering to hide their own smiles. Regina looked as uneasy as Ian did.

"Just talk to her," Robin said easily. "She likes it when people talk to her."

"She likes it when you sing to her, too!" Roland piped up, bouncing excitedly at Ian's elbow. "Can you sing?"

Ian hesitated, eyes darting to Killian, then said, "Yes."

Robin grinned, then put an arm around Ian's shoulders and steered him from the room and down the hall. Roland trotted along at Ian's other side, tugging at his shirt, asking what songs he knew.

Ian threw one last miserable, pleading look over his shoulder before he was out of sight down the hall.

-

In the end, it took all of them to convince Henry that there was nothing wrong with him for having been bullied.

"I'm sorry," he said. He was staring at his hands, clenched together on the table. Tears stood out in his eyes.

"No, _we're_ sorry," Emma said. "We're sorry for not noticing. And we're sorry we made you feel like you couldn't tell us about it."

Henry nodded and wiped at his tears with his sleeve.

"We're your family, Henry," David said. " _All_ of us." He gestured around at everyone in the room. There were nods of agreements, and Neal giggled in Mary Margaret's arms, which made Henry's lips twitch in a smile.

"I meant what I said before," Killian added, leaning across the table towards Henry. " _You're_ what's important, lad. We're always going to do everything we can to be there for you."

"I know, Killian. Thanks," he said.

Killian winked in response, then drew back. He laid his arm along the back of Emma's chair, brushing his fingers along her neck and shoulders. His leg moved to pressed against hers, and she dropped her hand to his knee and squeezed.

"Also," Mary Margaret added, "I'm still on good terms with the principal. So just let me know whenever someone's bothering you, and I'll have them taken care of."

Her statement lightened the mood of the room, and Emma saw Henry finally relax.

"Thanks, grandma," he said, grinning.

Robin left to check on Ian, Roland, and Rowan in the den. He walked stealthily down the hallway, with the silent ease of an accomplished hunter, and returned almost as quietly. He bent down to whisper in Killian's ear. Killian raised one eyebrow curiously, then went to the den himself.

He was grinning when he got back.

"Emma, love, you need to go have a look," he said.

Emma slipped out of the kitchen and down the hall. The door to the den was half open, and through the crack Emma saw Ian sitting on the couch with Rowan cradled in his arms. There was a stack of pillows in his lap to help him support her weight. Roland was against his side, holding _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ and turning the pages as Ian read.

"On Thursday, he ate through four strawberries, but he was still hungry," Ian said.

"I like strawberries," Roland said.

"Me too. They're my favorite."

Emma putting her hand over her mouth, feeling the insanely large smile underneath as tears pricked her eyes.

"You have a good lad, Emma," Robin said quietly. Emma hadn't heard him come up behind her.

"I know," she said, and sniffled.

They turned and crept back down the hallway together, but Robin stopped her just before they reached the kitchen.

"Emma, I just wanted to thank you," he said.

"For what?" she asked, shaking her head slightly in confusion.

"For fighting. I know you're fighting for your son, but what you're doing helps Rowan as well, and I -- and Regina -- really appreciate it."

Emma smiled. "Hey, please don't thank me. Rowan's my goddaughter. It's my job to protect _her_ too. Plus, Ian seems to like her a lot."

Robin chuckled, eyes twinkling. "I find myself looking forward to that day more and more."

"What day?"

"The day your son and my daughter come home to tell me and Regina that they're dating."

"I think Regina's going to need a few drinks that day," Emma said, and Robin laughed.

-

After everyone left, and while Killian and the boys cleaned up the kitchen, Emma went upstairs to the nursery. She needed a minute alone, a minute to process, a minute to reassure herself that everything would turn out okay.

She waved her hand, and the 4D picture of the baby appeared in her grasp. He was smiling, and Emma was certain she could already see Killian in the long lines of his mouth and the shape of his eyes.

She laid her other hand on the crib railing, and began running it back and forth along the polished wood. As she did, she got little flashes from the future, flashes of her and Killian's son in various stages of babyhood; always smiling, always happy.

It was a relief, in a way, that all of this would be coming to a head soon. The sooner they dealt with Zelena, the sooner they could send Ian home, where he belonged, the sooner they could get on with their lives...

A sudden realization made her freeze.

Behind her, she heard Killian's footsteps approaching.

"What's on your mind, love?" he asked. He wrapped his arms around her, hand and hook resting against her belly. She felt the baby move inside her, as he usually did when he heard Killian's voice, and she knew Killian felt him moving by the way his fingers curled around the curve of her bump.

"Killian," she said. "We're going to have to forget him."

"Forget whom?"

"Ian. He's going to leave us, and we're going to forget about him. Because of the Memory Curse."

She felt Killian sag slightly. "It won't be for forever," he whispered. "He'll be born soon. And eventually he'll grow into the Ian we know."

"I know, but I can't imagine forgetting him like we never met him. I don't want it to be like that."

"Neither do I, Swan," he said, turning his face into her neck. "But we _must_ forget him. To ensure he stays _exactly_ who he is, and to make sure his sister is born. And if the boys are correct about the Memory Curse -- and I'm certain they are -- Henry will return our memories to us one day, and we'll remember all this again."

She sighed and leaned back against him. His arms tightened around her.

"Do you think it was hard for them -- us -- to let Ian jump into the time portal, knowing everything that happens to him?"

Killian let out a deep breath. "I imagine it will be one of the hardest decisions we ever have to make. Right up there with patiently waiting for Zelena to do whatever it is she's going to do to accelerate the pregnancy."

She tensed, and he immediately began pressing kisses along her jaw and up to her cheek.

"It's okay," he soothed. "It'll all be okay."

Emma knew he was right: the flashes of the future she'd gotten from the crib...those _proved_ he was right. She looked at the crib -- at Killian's love for their son made manifest -- then at the blank white walls surrounding it.

"We need to get his room ready," she said.

Killian chuckled against her skin, and pressed another kiss to her neck. "Are you still determined to have me paint stripes?"

"Yes."

"Then stripes it is, love," he said.

* * *

_13 years in the future_

Emma and Killian were at Granny's when they saw Zelena's time portal activate. It reared above the dark line of trees, a burning orange beacon, ripping a hole in the clouds.

Emma dropped her grilled cheese sandwich and raced from the diner and into the street, Killian hard on her heels.

"Fuck," she swore, gaping open-mouthed at the sky.

"Zelena," Killian growled.

They'd known this day would come eventually. Thirteen years ago Zelena had returned to Storybrooke using that time portal, claiming she had come from the future.

"Mom! Killian!"

Emma turned to see Henry racing down the sidewalk towards them. He stumbled to a halt and bent double, breathing hard.

" _Shit_ ," he wheezed. "I thought I was going to miss you. I've got to give you something."

"Uh," Emma said, looking from Henry to the light from the time portal and back. Did Henry not see it?

"What is it, lad?" Killian said, a little impatiently.

Henry straightened, then stuck his hand into his jacket and pulled out a bundle of papers. He held them out towards Emma. She saw at once that they were from his story book.

"I don't understand," she said slowly, making a face at the pages Henry was offering her.

"Mom, do you trust me?" Henry asked. Emma met his gaze. His lips were pressed tightly in a determined frown, but his brown eyes were perfectly calm.

"Yes," she said. _Of course_ she trusted him. She'd trusted him since he was a child.

"Then take them," Henry said, and thrust the papers towards her again.

Emma sighed and raised her hand to Henry's. Her fingers brushed the pages, and there was a flash of rainbow light. It passed through her and spread, rippling like a shockwave through the town.

Emma blinked rapidly, looking first at Henry and then at Killian.

She _remembered_.

"Emma," Killian said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut suddenly. The memories were old, but they felt _fresh_ , as if she'd just lived them.

"Oh my God," she said, both hands darting up to cover her mouth to stifle a sob. "Oh my God we have to let Ian go into that time portal too."

Her knees suddenly felt weak. Killian's hand gripped her elbow, keeping her on her feet.

"Killian," she said, and she knew Killian heard the plea in her voice, knew _exactly_ what she was asking...

"Emma," he said, voice strained but with a hard edge to it. "We agreed to the Memory Curse. And when we did, we did it knowing that one day we'd be facing this decision."

"Yea, but he's...he's..."

_My baby._

"I can't. I can't let him go."

"You have to let him do it," Henry said. "Mom? Mom, look at me."

She did.

"He'll be fine, okay?" Henry said, and then he smiled.

"He's right, love," Killian added. "We're going to let him go. And then we're going to go get him back."

"Where is he?" Henry asked. "Where's Ian?"

Emma took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "It's 3 o'clock. He's walking home from school."

"He'll see the time portal," Killian said.

"Yea," Emma said. "He'll know that's where we'll be going. And he'll follow."

Killian lifted his hand to cup her face. His thumb traced back and forth along her cheek. She raised her eyes slowly to his, and when she met his blue gaze, she felt her fears fall away. She covered his hand with hers.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yea," she said.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Been a rough two weeks at work. Things are really busy and will probs stay that way until we hit our February vacation week. I am working on writing as much as I can, but as always, thank you for your patience :)

_5 years in the future_

Killian and Ian stood in the empty room. It had been a nursery, then a bedroom, and soon it would be a nursery again. All of Ian's possessions were gone, relocated to his new bedroom down the hall. Nothing remained but the paint on the walls -- the same paint Killian had put there five years ago -- and the memories.

Killian remembered the night they'd brought Ian home from the hospital and brought him directly up here to show him his room; he remembered singing Ian to sleep in the rocking chair in the corner; he remembered waking up in the middle of the night to find Emma nursing Ian in that same chair, or just sitting there with him because she wanted to hold him; he remembered waking up almost every morning to find Ian _already_ awake, blonde hair tousled from sleep but his blue eyes alert, standing in his crib, waiting for him, grinning and giggling when he saw him; he remembered laying sprawled on the rug with the boy, reading a book, drawing a picture, or playing with his toys. 

Killian felt Ian lean into his legs a little, and looked down.

"Are you sad?" he asked.

Ian shrugged, but Killian saw the comically large, pitiful frown, and knew that he was. Killian lifted his hand to the boy's hair and smoothed it away from his forehead.

"It's okay to be sad," he said. "Moving to a new room is a big change."

"I'm gonna miss it," Ian said in a small voice, and then his face crumpled a little more. "I _like_ my room."

Killian stooped and picked the boy up, hoisting him onto his hip. Ian's arms went around his neck immediately.

"I know you're going to miss it," Killian said. He looked into Ian's eyes, blue eyes that matched his own, and Ian looked back, listening. "Sometimes, when you're a big brother, you have to make sacrifices so that your younger siblings can be happy. You're being a very good big brother for letting your sister have your room."

"Is Jackie gonna like it?"

"Aye," Killian said. "She's going to _love_ it. Especially after we paint it for her."

Killian smiled, and Ian returned his smile tentatively.

"What color are we gonna paint it?" Ian asked.

"I don't know. We're going to have to ask her."

"We're gonna ask _Jackie_?" Ian's eyebrows lifted until they were covered by the sweep of golden hair across his brow.

Killian grinned. "Aye. But first, there's something very special in your new room I want to show you," he said.

"Really?" Ian asked, perking up.

" _Really_ ," Killian said, and carried the boy from the nursery and down the hall into his new bedroom. It was in the back corner of the house, with two large windows that looked out onto the side yard. He took Ian to one of the windows, and said, "What do you see?"

"Trees -- " he started, then gasped. " _The sea!_ "

"Aye," Killian said, watching Ian's awestruck face, "You couldn't see _that_ in your old room, could you lad?"

Ian just shook his head mutely, still staring out the window with his mouth hanging open and his eyes twinkling in delight.

"Are you two ready for Henry's grad -- what are you looking at?" Emma asked from behind them.

"Mom!" Ian said, head whipping around. "You can see the sea from here!"

"You _can_?" Emma asked in a tone of surprise.

"Yea, come look!"

Emma joined them at the window and looked out.

"Wow, that's pretty cool," she said. "Your new room has a really nice view."

"This is the best room ever!" Ian squeaked.

Killian winked at Emma, and they shared a secret smile.

"I want to show Henry my new room," Ian said, voice still high-pitched with excitement. "Can I show Henry?"

"Well, we're about to be late for his graduation, so can we maybe show him afterwards?" Emma asked.

"Okay."

"Alright bud, you gotta get dressed. I'll meet you two downstairs."

"Ah, hold on a moment, love," Killian said. He reached out to catch Emma's sleeve, stopping her. "Ian and I have something we need to do."

"Oh? And what's that?"

Killian put Ian back on his own two feet and said, "Sit down, please, Swan."

Emma sat on Ian's bed, and Killian and Ian went to kneel on the floor to either side of her.

"Alright, hold still," Killian said seriously, fixing Emma with a stern gaze. "We need to ask the baby something."

Emma's lips fell open in surprise, and then lifted in amusement, but Killian ignored her -- if he didn't he'd start laughing as well. He leaned forward to press his ear to Emma's belly, and on Emma's other side, Ian did the same.

"Are you ready, lad?"

"Mmhm," Ian hummed.

"Ok, Jackie. What color would you like for your daddy and your big brother to paint your nursery?"

Killian heard Emma exhale a tiny laugh.

Ian sat still, eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Well?" Killian prompted after a few long moments.

"Jackie said pink. But not like Princess Bubblegum pink. Watermelon pink."

"Alright, does she have any other requests? Does she want stripes on the walls as well?"

"No, she wants, uh..." Ian glanced up at Emma, and Emma mouthed 'polka-dots' down at him. Ian looked back at Killian and said, straight-faced, "She wants Polka-dots."

_Polka-dots._

Killian groaned inwardly.

* * *

_Now_

On Tuesday, Killian was woken up by the rich aroma of chocolate chip cookies drifting up from the kitchen and into his and Emma's bedroom. He followed the intoxicating smell from bed, into the hallway, and downstairs to find Emma pulling a fresh tray of cookies from the oven and sliding them atop the stove to cool. The countertops were already crowded with the results from previous batches, sorted into various containers, and there was a large mixing bowl still half-filled with more batter.

"Hey, dad," Ian said. He and Henry were sitting at the kitchen table, a plate full of cookies and a glass of milk each. From the crumbs that littered the table and their smug expressions, Killian could tell they'd both already eaten more than a few.

"Good morning, lads," Killian said, and crossed the kitchen to wrap his arms around Emma's waist from behind, fitting his body to hers. She leaned into him, but her back was rigid.

"How long have you been at it, love?" Killian said softly. He hadn't noticed her slip from bed that morning.

"A while," she said, and turned her head to give him a quick smile -- a smile that barely masked her tension.

"What can I do to help?" he asked, and he knew she would understand he wasn't referring to the cookies.

"Just hold me," she said.

He tightened his arms around her, his hand falling to her bump. Both of Emma's hands moved to cover his, pressing them hard against her belly. For a moment, the knot of worry in Killian's chest threatened t rise up and choke him. It was difficult to breathe, as if his anxiety was an actual physical obstruction.

Zelena was coming for their baby.

Killian wanted to _fight_. He wanted to hunt down that witch and stop her from hurting Emma and the babe. He wanted to lock her in a cage and bury her so deeply underground that she'd never cause anyone pain ever again for all eternity.

But for the sake of the boy sitting at the table behind them -- the boy with Emma's hair and Killian's eyes -- he could do nothing but wait. _They_ could do nothing but wait.

And if Killian was frightened and angry, Emma had to be a thousand times more so.

But she was stronger than he was. And they were stronger _together_.

Together they would face Zelena. Together they would protect the babe. Together they would return their son safely to the future.

On instinct, Killian started swaying slowly from side to side, and before he really meant to do it he was humming. Emma exhaled deeply, a sigh escaping her lips, and she relaxed in his arms. Then, she laughed.

Her laugh brought a smile to his lips, and he buried his face in her hair, nuzzling at her ear, and asked, "What's so funny, love?"

"The baby hears you," she said. She slid Killian's hand lower and he felt the baby kicking. "I think he's jealous you're singing to me, not him."

"Damn right," Ian said from behind them.

"Why don't you two go get ready for school?" Killian said, without turning around. He heard both boys push their chairs back and stand up from the table -- likely grateful to be excused from witnessing the scene before them -- and start shuffling towards the stairs.

"Oh, hey, can we have some cookies in our lunches?" Ian asked.

"You just had cookies for breakfast, boy," Killian said. "You're both getting salads and an apple for lunch."

Ian and Henry let out identical grumbles of disappointment and disgust, then trudged upstairs.

"You're going to put cookies in their lunches anyway, aren't you?" Emma asked.

"Of course," Killian said, and kissed her temple. "I just enjoy teasing them."

Emma turned in his arms to face him, the size of her stomach forcing Killian to take half a step back, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was a long, lingering, but chaste kiss, and when she broke it she was smiling again, only this time the tension Killian had witnessed earlier had disappeared.

"Are you painting the nursery today?" she asked.

"Aye," Killian said. Preparing for the baby's arrival didn't make the situation feel _right_ , but it made it easier. They had to focus on the _after_ \-- and there _would_ be an after.

"Okay. When you finish, we should probably start looking at furniture, too. We'll need -- "

"Don't worry about furniture, Swan. I've got it all taken care of."

Rather, _Emma's parents_ had the furniture taken care of, but that was a secret -- for now.

"I -- wait, you do?" Emma asked.

"Aye. Let me deal with the nursery. I want you to focus on the exam today and on choosing deputies who can assist your father at the station while you're on maternity leave."

"Are you sure?"

" _Positive_ ," he said, and grinned at her. "I helped renovate the bar, Swan. The nursery should be fairly easy in comparison."

"Okay," she said, her smile growing until she was beaming up at him. "I'm really excited to see it."

"As am I. And, speaking of, do you have a list of the specifications for me?"

"Mmhm," she said, and drew a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him.

Killian unfolded it and found a small drawing and some notes written in Emma's hand.

"Do there have to be -- "

"Yes," Emma said. " _Nine_ stripes. They'll fit perfectly if they're each 14 1/4 inches wide. And just on the wall where the crib will be."

"Any particular reason?"

"Because it'll look nice," she said, then she bit her lip and suddenly looked worried. "Look, if you don't want to do stripes, it's fine, I can -- "

" _Emma_ ," Killian said. "I'm not complaining, love, I'm just curious. Your heart's desire is all I want you to have. I _promise_. So if stripes are what you desire, then I shall paint stripes, and I shall be happy whilst doing it."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Emma. I love you and I love the baby, and I'll do everything in my power to ensure you're both happy. Always. Starting with _stripes_."

She laughed, and kissed him again. Her giggles spilled over her lips and onto his, making him laugh as well. He backed her to the counter, hastily pushed aside a container of cookies and the bowl of dough, and lifted Emma onto its surface. He ran his fingers from her waist down her thigh to her knee, and dragged it up high against his hip, opening her legs so he could press himself more firmly in between them.

"Whoa, hey -- " said Ian's startled voice.

Emma's giggles stopped short. Killian let out an involuntary huff of frustration and clamped down hard on his lust, stuffing it back deep down inside him, where it growled crossly at him.

He half turned, and asked in a low, dangerous voice, "Do you have some sort of sensor that alerts you whenever your mother and I are about to have a private moment?"

"Trust me, if I _did_ then I wouldn't be here right now. And if you want _privacy_ I'm pretty sure that's what nighttime and the lock on your bedroom door are for."

They scowled at each other from across the kitchen, and then Henry came down the stairs, almost running into Ian where he stood frozen on the bottom step. He took one look at Emma and Killian and then said, "You guys seriously need to learn when to get a room."

Emma snorted and patted Killian on the chest, signaling for him to step back. He did, and took her hand to steady her as she hopped off the counter. 

Killian sighed. "Alright, lads. How many cookies would you like in your lunches?"

"Ten," Ian said.

" _Five_ ," Killian countered.

"Six," Ian said, and when Killian opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, he added, "Six or I tell grandpa that you're spoiling our innocent minds with your public make-out sessions."

Killian's mouth fell open. "You _wouldn't_."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Ian smirked, and behind him, Henry did too.

Killian turned to Emma for help, but she just raised an eyebrow at him and said, " _You_ made them this way. Now _you_ deal with the little pirates you created."

Killian's snapped his jaw shut. "Fine. Six," he bit out. "But none for dinner."

Ian and Henry exchanged looks, and then Henry said, "Deal."

As Killian filled two plastic baggies with six cookies each, his outrage faded and pride rose up in its place.

-

Killian spent the morning prepping the nursery to be painted -- putting to good use all the skills he'd picked up from Marco and the dwarves. There was something supremely satisfying about the whole process and the ability to do such a task on his own. Marco had called it _being handy_ , and Killian grinned at the irony.

When he was finished, he went to the hardware store to purchase paint, but stopped short as soon as he caught sight of the paint chip display.

"Bloody hell," he growled, stalking over.

Emma had specified gray paint, but she hadn't specified _which_ gray paint. There were at least a hundred shades of every different color laid out before him. He hadn't realized there'd be such a variety of options, and somehow he rather thought Emma had _known_ he wouldn't know.

His eyes raked back and forth.

_Mindful Gray. Repose Gray. Wickham Gray._

_Harbor Gray_ sounded nice, but it was a touch dark and both he and Emma agreed the nursery should be filled with _light_.

 _Storm. Thunder._ He shook his head. Too ominous.

 _March Wind_ caught his eye, but again, it was too dark.

 _Colonnade Gray_ had a strange pink tinge to it, which made Killian feel slightly ill. _North Star_ was light enough and it was bluish, but it made Killian think of ice and cold things.

 _Essential Gray, Proper Gray, Fashionable Gray_ \-- all shades he dismissed based on their names alone.

His hand was halfway to his pocket to retrieve his phone to dial Emma -- or perhaps 911 -- when he spotted it.

_Owl Gray._

He picked up the card. It was a soft, pale gray that reminded him of still, cloudy days at sea, when nothing moved nor made a sound. It was calming.

He smiled.

_Perfect._

-

In the afternoon, Killian picked the boys up from school. Ian stoutly refused to be involved in the painting of the nursery, so Killian dropped him at the station, shouting, "DO YOUR HOMEWORK!" at him from the car window as Ian raced up the sidewalk towards where David waited at the front door.

Back at the house, he and Henry rolled their sleeves up, popped open the paint cans, and got started.

They worked mostly in silence, concentrating on the task at hand, concentrating on getting a smooth, even coat of paint. It took them a few hours to finish, and when they did they took a step back to admire their work.

The baseboards and the casing around the windows and door had remained white, but now three walls were solid gray, and one wall was neatly painted with nine horizontal stripes -- five gray and four white.

Killian smiled to himself. The nursery looked marvelous, and it wasn't merely because he and Henry had done a neat job of painting it -- Emma had truly had the right idea with the stripes and the color.

Killian turned to Henry. He was gazing around at the room, lips quirked to one side, eyebrows drawn down, clearly deep in thought.

"Well, what do you think, lad?" Killian prompted.

Henry was silent for a moment, then he said, "It's missing something," in a tone Killian recognized.

He grinned, and asked, "What did you have in mind?"

Henry pulled his phone from his jeans pocket. He tapped at the screen a bit, and then handed it to Killian. There was a photograph of a nursery on the screen. It was painted similarly to the baby's nursery with stripes on one wall, except centered along one of the stripes, painted in another color, was a name.

"I think it's a fantastic idea," Killian said, then glanced out the window. It was dark. Emma and Ian would be returning home soon. "But it shall have to wait until tomorrow."

Henry nodded and took his phone back. "The gray paint has to dry first anyway," he said. "What color should we do?"

"You tell me," Killian said.

"Dark blue. Like the crib."

"And should we write 'Ian', or 'Killian'?"

"You tell me," Henry said, grinning at him.

"Killian," he said.

 _Killian_ was the name Emma had chosen for their son, and _Killian_ would be the name that adorned their son's nursery.

-

Emma and Ian returned home with Granny's, and over dinner Ian chattered happily about the exam -- apparently Emma and David had allowed both he and Mordred to take it. Henry had started to tell Ian about the nursery but Killian shushed him hurriedly and told him to take that conversation to another room -- they did, reaching for the cookie tray as they made their escape to the den to turn on the hockey game, forcing Killian to growl and slap their hands away.

"How did Ian do? On the test?" Killian asked Emma quietly as they stood side-by-side at the sink, washing and drying the dishes together.

"Perfect score," Emma said. "I'm afraid to tell him because then he'll be begging me again to let him quit school to become a deputy."

"Perhaps you can just put his acceptance on hold until he's completed your _other_ requirements," Killian said.

"Or maybe I'll just pass his score on to the other me when she gets here, and _she_ can deal with it," Emma said.

Killian chuckled. "You believe he's more afraid to argue with her than with you?"

"Oh, I _know_ he is," she said smugly. " _She's_ the one he has to get past if he wants to be Sheriff one day. Not me. Not yet, at least."

Suddenly, she was scouring one of the dishes a little too fiercely, as if she mean to put a hole in it.

"Henry's going to college," she said firmly, "and Ian is too."

"I agree," Killian said, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead, causing her to cease her assault on the dishes. "It will be good for both of them to get out and experience the world a bit before they decide what they truly want to do with their lives. They're very lucky. They have a safety net here, with us and with the town. It would be foolish of us not to encourage them to take advantage of it. However, it's difficult to imagine Ian leaving us as he hasn't even been born yet, but -- what? What is it, love?"

She was watching him with an odd expression, then she smiled _his_ smile and bumped his hip with hers before turning back to the dishes.

Killian accepted a coffee mug from her and began drying it. "Tell me about the rest of your day, Swan. How did the others do with the exam?"

"Not bad. There are a few decent candidates. No one stellar, but..." she shrugged. "Good enough, I guess. Mordred did pretty well for not being familiar with the laws here. Too bad he's only 13."

"Perhaps he'll be a Sheriff as well, one day," Killian said thoughtfully.

"Hey," Emma said, pausing in the act of squirting more soap on her sponge to squint at him questioningly. "If Mordred stays here, shouldn't Ian know who he is? Like, in the future?"

"I don't know...I suppose. Have you asked him about it?"

"Yea. He said he doesn't know who he is."

"Was he telling the truth?"

"Yea. Does that mean we should send Mordred back to the future with Ian?"

Killian cocked his head to the side. "Perhaps. I think the more important question is, in either time, who is Mordred going to live with?"

"Yea, I don't know," Emma said. "It's too bad no one from Camelot stuck around. Then maybe he could live with one of them, you know?"

"Aye, it would be beneficial to the boy to live with someone he had something in common with, especially in a world that's so much different from his own. Has the boy revealed anything further about his past? Anything that may help us help him?"

"No, not yet. I was thinking maybe you could talk to him. I feel like he'd open up to you a bit more."

Killian nodded. "I think that's a good idea. I'll try to spend some time with him later this week, when I've finished with the nursery."

He saw the smile flash across her face when he said _nursery_.

"Alright," she said, still smiling. "Let's finish up these dishes so we can watch the game."

Her statement was punctuated by two shouts from the den -- one of triumph from Henry, and one of dismay from Ian.

"Ah, Swan, I think yours and Henry's team just scored a point."

-

Later, after Killian had seen Ian and Henry to bed, he caught Emma at the door to the nursery with her hand on the knob.

"No, no, no," he said, rushing forward and ushering her away. "No peeking, Swan."

"What? Why?" she asked, and although she seemed annoyed she allowed Killian to steer her into their bedroom.

"Indulge me," he said. "I don't want you to see it until it's finished. Besides, you're not supposed to be inhaling fumes from the paint. It's bad for the baby."

"Alright, alright," she said, and got settled in bed beneath the covers. Killian followed her, and lay with his cheek and hand resting against her stomach. He chuckled when he felt the movement within, movement Emma had previously described as _a_ _dance party_.

"Our little lad likes to stay up late," Killian said, turning his head to kiss her belly.

"Mm," Emma agreed. "Can you sing him a lullaby so he'll go to sleep?"

"Of course, love. Any one in particular?"

"The one about the sea."

"They're _all_ about the sea, Swan."

"The one that's in another language."

"Ah," he said, and kissed her belly once more before he started singing softly.

" _Idir gaoth is idir tonn."_

  _Between the winds, between the waves._

It was a song he remembered his mother singing to him when he was a child and she held him as he fell asleep.

  _"Idir tuilleadh is idir gann_."

_Between the sands, between the shore._

 As he sang it, he remembered the way his mother's voice had always made him feel safe, how he had always felt so wrapped-up in her love when she sang to him.

 " _Idir cósta, idir cléibh. Idir mé is idir mé féin_."

 _Between the stones, between the storm. Between belief, between the sea_.

He wanted his and Emma's son to feel safe. He wanted his and Emma's son to know he was _loved_.

" _Casann sí dhom. Amhrán na Farraige. Suaimhneach nó ciúin. Ag cuardú go damanta._ "

  _From the shell. A song of the sea. Neither quiet nor calm. Searching for love again._

After a while, the movement beneath Killian's hand slowed, and then stopped.

 " _A stór_ ," he murmured against Emma's skin.

  _My treasure._

 "Is he asleep?" Killian asked, stroking his hand back and forth across Emma's belly.

 "I think so," Emma said, voice drowsy. "Do you know what language that is?"

"No, I don't. My mother spoke it, but I only know enough to say a few phrases and sing a few songs," he said. He adjusted his position so he was lying on the side behind Emma. He loved the feeling of her safe in his arms, her whole body pressed to his from head to toe. He kept his hand on her bump so that the baby was included in his embrace.

"Mmm. I wish you knew more about her."

Killian sighed and turned his face into her neck. "Her story's long finished, Swan. I just hope she rests in peace."

"I do too," she said quietly. Her hands pulled his arms tighter around her. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, Emma," he said. "I love you."

"We love you, too."

-

The next morning, Killian found Emma in the kitchen again, but this time she was at the sink, looking out of the window and humming to herself, both hands resting on her belly.

She was singing the song Killian had sung to the babe the night before. Killian paused at the bottom of the stairs to listen. Though he knew she'd never admit it, Emma had a pleasant voice.

After a few minutes, she stopped humming and said, "I know you're listening."

Killian grinned. "Difficult not to, love."

She rolled her eyes at him over her shoulder.

"Are the cookies a reward for the new deputies?" Killian asked, gesturing at the stack of containers on the kitchen table next to the boys' lunch bags.

"There aren't technically any new deputies yet, but...yea, I guess the cookies are sort of a reward," Emma admitted. "It's either that or let Henry and Ian eat them all."

"Best take them to the station with you," Killian said. He rounded the table to meet Emma at the counter, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She leaned back into him, and today there was no tension in her smile as she tilted her chin up to kiss him.

"What's on the agenda today, love?" he asked, moving his lips from hers to the tip of her nose to her forehead.

"We're going to call back everyone who passed the exam yesterday and start testing them with weapons."

"Weapons, plural?" His lips brushed both her cheeks, then dipper to run along her jaw.

"Yea, I figured why not let them use a sword or a bow or something if they're good at it? We can train them to use firearms later, if they don't already know. Just as long as they can use _some_ sort of a weapon now, we're good."

Killian kissed her behind the ear. "Fair point, love. I think it's a fantastic idea. Are you going to let Ian take the weapons test as well?"

"Nah, that'll all be done by the time he's out of school -- oh! That reminds me. Regina's going to get the boys from school. She's taking them to her vault to get the ingredients they need for the Memory Curse. I guess Friday is the deadline or something."

"Are we certain the boys can handle this Memory Curse on their own?"

"Yea," Emma said. "I trust Ian. If it was magic he couldn't handle he'd say something."

"And I trust _you_ , love. If you say they've got this under control, then I believe you."

Emma nodded, then said, "When can I see the nursery?"

"Tomorrow, love," he said. "It will be ready tomorrow. I promise."

-

On Thursday morning, Emma took the boys to school before heading to the station to begin training Storybrooke's eight new deputies, and David, Marco, and Will began sneaking over the furniture for the nursery.

When all the furniture was in its place, Marco and Will left, leaving David and Killian alone in the nursery. David stood in the center, arms folded over his chest, peering around.

Killian felt suddenly nervous. What if David didn't approve?

Finally, David turned, put his hand on Killian's shoulder. He squeezed it once -- hard -- and nodded stiffly at him before walking briskly past. Killian caught a glimpse of David's tear-filled eyes before he was gone.

Killian barely had time to register his own emotions -- relief, surging joy, a sort of tranquility -- before a voice from the doorway startled him.

"Killian?"

He turned to see Mary Margaret standing there.

"Can I come in and see?" she asked.

"Of course," Killian said, a wide grin splitting his face.

Mary Margaret gasped as soon as she stepped inside the room and took it all in.

"Oh, _Killian_. This is fantastic."

"Thank you," he said.

"Emma's going to _love_ it," she said, and before Killian could muster a response she took his face between her hands. "Thank you for making my daughter so happy," she said, and hugged him. Killian hesitated for a moment before carefully placing his arms around her and hugging back.

"I know you and Emma aren't married yet -- "

_Yet._

It sent a jolt through Killian -- half fear, half excitement.

"But I want you to know David and I consider you part of the family, and we're really excited to be welcoming the newest member."

Killian let his body relax a little and chuckled. "The boy may _look_ like me, but there's a lot of Charming in him as well. He'll fit right in."

"There's more of _you_ in him, I think," Mary Margaret said, and she drew back, wiping at her eyes a little. "He's a good boy. You and Emma did a really good job raising him."

Killian sucked in a sharp breath and ducked his head. "You can't imagine what it means to me to hear you say that," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"You can't imagine what it means to David and I that our daughter found such a good man," she said. "David wants to tell you as much himself, except I think he's waiting for his speech at the wedding."

Killian's mouth dropped open in astonishment, and Mary Margaret patted his cheek once in understanding before leaving him alone again in the nursery.

-

There were butterflies in Killian's stomach as he led Emma up the stairs that evening. He stopped her in front of the nursery door, and asked, "You ready, love?"

Emma smiled and bit her lip, then nodded.

Killian opened the nursery door, and gestured for Emma to enter. She stepped inside slowly, mouth hanging open, green eyes wide.

David and Mary Margaret had bought furniture to match the crib -- a rocking chair, bookshelf, changing table, and large chest, all in black walnut. On the floor was a large, plush, navy blue rectangular rug that matched the upholstery on the crib and the name on the wall --

" _Killian_ ," Emma read, staring at Henry and Killian's addition. Her voice quivering slightly -- she was on the verge of tears, and whether they were sad or happy, Killian couldn't yet tell.

"What do you think?" Killian asked, and held his breath.

Instead of answering, Emma just buried her face in her hands.

"Emma? Emma, what is it?"

Emma dropped her hands, and she was grinning, a huge, joyful grin that dimpled her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle.

"Killian," she said, the quiver in her voice now more of a giggle. "We're going to have a _baby_. We're going to be _parents_."

Killian swallowed hard. "Are you nervous?"

_Because I am, love._

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I'm not nervous. I'm _ready_ , Killian. I'm ready to be his mom. I'm ready to hold him and feed him and change his poopy diapers and wake up ten times in the middle of the night for him...I'm ready."

She stepped forward and hugged him hard, nearly pressing the air from Killian's lungs. He slipped his hook arm around her waist. His hand rose to bury his fingers in her thick blonde waves and he inhaled the scent of her shampoo as he pressed his lips to her forehead in a kiss.

"I know you are, love," he said softly. "You're going to be a fantastic mother."

"And you're going to be a _great_ father."

-

They fell asleep that night talking about the nursery -- Emma kept going back to the name on the wall and how much she _loved_ it.

"It was Henry's idea," Killian said.

"He's going to be a really good big brother," Emma said.

"He will be," Killian agreed. "The baby's going to _love_ him."

-

On Friday, Killian picked Mordred up from the station and the boys up from school and took them all to the Jolly Roger.

"Are we safe here?" Mordred asked as they walked up the gangplank.

Killian glanced over his shoulder at him. He was peering around at the other boats warily as if expecting Zelena to emerge from one at any moment. Killian felt a swell of sympathy for the boy.

 Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was a child -- the same age as Ian and Henry.

A child Zelena likely wouldn't hesitate to kill on sight.

"Aye, there's a protection spell around the ship. Zelena can't get in," Killian said, and smiled reassuringly. He retrieved the sparring sticks from beneath the mast, passed them around, then sorted everyone present into two pairs: Henry and Mordred, and Killian and Ian -- Mordred and Ian had come close to killing each other twice before, and Killian didn't want to dredge up any unpleasant memories.

Both Ian and Morded side-eyed each other from opposite sides of the deck, clearly thinking the same thing.

Killian cleared his throat loudly. "Henry's rather new," he explained to Mordred. "So I'd like you to help him practice disarming."

"A useful skill," Mordred said, nodding. Ian narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but kept his mouth shut.

Killian watched for a moment as Henry and Mordred began sparring (Mordred allowing Henry to attempt to disarm him) before joining Ian. He worked the boy hard, pressing him, testing the limits of what he was capable of, looking for holes and weak spots. The boy had proved on previous occasions that he was well-rounded, but Killian needed to know he was _ready_.

It quickly became abundantly clear that Ian was _not_ ready; in fact, he was the opposite of ready. His gaze kept wandering to the side, to where Mordred and Henry were, and more than once Killian had to remind him to _focus_.

Finally, exasperated with Ian's preoccupation, Killian darted in and knocked Ian's sword from his fingers, then leveled his own stick at the center of Ian's chest.

Ian just blinked down at his sword, lying on the deck, then looked up at him in surprise.

"You let your guard down," Mordred commented quietly from the side.

" _Bite me, jerk-face!_ " Ian growled savagely, barely turning his head in Mordred's direction. If he ahd been a dog, his hackles would have been up.

Killian raised his eyebrows. Ian caught his eye, then looked away guiltily.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Killian dropped the point of his sparring stick to the deck and relaxed his stance. "Why don't we take a break?" he said. "Ian, could you fetch the water bottles from below deck?"

Ian nodded and made to do as he was bid, but Mordred's voice stopped him.

"Perhaps I could help?" he suggested hesitantly.

Ian stared at him for a second, then nodded tightly. Mordred climbed down into the hatch behind him. Henry sat down heavily on the stairs leading to the quarter deck, and Killian sat beside him.

"I'm proud of you," he said.

"Yea, I feel like I'm getting a lot better!" Henry said happily.

"Not just that," Killian said. "Although you _are_ correct: you've improved much since we first began. I meant that I'm proud of you for giving Mordred a second chance -- and for being more gracious about it than your brother. You're setting a good example for him."

Henry's smiled faded. He dropped his eyes to his hands, loosely clasped around the hilt of the wooden sword.

"I know what it's like finding out your life is a lie," Henry said quietly. "It sucks. I want to help Mordred find his place here, you know?"

"Aye," Killian said.

"And Ian will be fine eventually," Henry added. "He forgave him, and he wants to help him. He just...if I had seen Mordred kill mom I would have a hard time being _nice_ to him too."

Ian and Mordred reemerged, cutting off Killian and Henry's conversation. Henry rose to meet Ian, taking one of the water bottles from him, and Mordred timidly took Henry's place next to Killian. Up close, Mordred looked very much like his mother. Indeed, without the maniacal gleam in his eye, there was almost no trace of Arthur in him.

"You're rather good," Killian said, accepting the water Mordred offered him.

"Thank you. My father's men trained me," Mordred said.

"You must have started quite young."

"Yes. I was four when my lessons started."

Killian glanced at Ian and Henry. When _they'd_ been four they'd been learning the colors of the rainbow and how to share their toys.

"I'd like to go back to Camelot," Mordred said suddenly. Ian and Henry heard too, and they stopped their conversation to listen.

Killian floundered helplessly for a moment under Mordred's resolute glower.

"Erm," he began hesitantly, "I'm not sure if that's possible, I'm sorry. Your parents only returned to Camelot a few months ago. You likely haven't been born yet. If we send you back now, it will completely disrupt the timeline, and we can't allow that to happen."

"But my father's people -- _my_ people...they need me."

"In the _future_ they do," Henry said, and everyone looked at him. He licked his lips in the way that meant he was about to explain something, and continued, "Listen, what if you stayed in Storybrooke for 13 years, until you -- like, the past version of yourself -- come to Storybrooke with Zelena? Then you could just go to Camelot and take over. And, you know, you'd actually be an adult and everything."

Mordred's mouth dropped open. "That's...that's very wise," he said slowly, then he turned to Killian. "If...if it's alright, I think I'd like to do that."

Killian grinned. "We'll have to discuss it with everyone, but I think they'll agree that it's the best solution. Welcome to Storybrooke, lad."

Mordred ducked his head, smiling a small, sheepish smile, cheeks slightly pink.

"Hey," Henry said, drawing Mordred's eyes back up. "Do you want to go again?"

He raised his sparring stick in question.

"Yes," Mordred said, and jumped to his feet. When he left, Ian took his place.

"Sorry I'm in a bad mood," Ian said in a low voice.

"It's alright, lad. I know you're trying," Killian said, nudging Ian with his elbow.

Ian nodded, and they fell into an easy silence, both watching Henry and Mordred spar. After a while, Killian glanced over and noticed the look on Ian's face, and the way he worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

Killian leaned back on his elbows and asked, "What's on your mind?"

Ian shook his head in frustration. "I'm trying to think of who Mordred is. In the future. Mom asked me about it, and, I mean, if Mordred stays...shouldn't I know who he is?"

"No one comes to mind?"

"No."

"Perhaps that means he doesn't stay, after all. Perhaps we're going to send him back to the future with you."

"Yea, maybe," Ian said, but he didn't seem convinced. "I feel like I'm missing something, though."

"Perhaps we send him to Camelot after all," Killian continued. "I suppose we could find somewhere for him to live where he'd be out of the way enough not to interfere with the timeline. And I suppose we could find someone for him to live with there who could keep him out of trouble --"

Ian gasped. " Oh my God. _Lancelot_ ," he hissed, then turned to Killian with a triumphant grin. "I know exactly what happens. _I know who Mordred is_."

-

_5 years in the future, cont'd_

After an hour of sitting in a dark, crowded auditorium watching teenagers on a stage giving speeches and singing melancholy songs about moving on, Ian was practically crawling out of his skin.

Truthfully, it was a miracle he'd made it so long.

The ceremony seemed to be drawing to a close, and Ian was wriggling miserably in his hard wooden seat with the sort of look on his face that suggested he was on the verge of either a break down or an explosion, so Killian whispered, "C'mon," to him and nodded his head towards the aisle.

Ian scrambled to his feet immediately and took Killian's hand.

"I'm going to take him outside, Swan," Killian whispered across the seats at her.

Emma, teary-eyed, nodded and sniffled without looking away from the stage, where Henry stood among his peers in their bright blue robes.

Ian clung to Killian's hand as he led him from the auditorium, practically trembling with pent-up energy, then burst outside like solid shot from a cannon and raced towards the playground. Killian trailed him, watching warily as Ian began climbing the monkey bars -- the boy climbed _everything_.

After nearly fifteen minutes, the doors opened and the graduates filed out. Henry spotted Killian and Ian and waved. Ian shouted, dropped from the monkey bars -- causing Killian's heart to stutter and nearly fail in his chest -- and sprinted over to his big brother only to leap onto him. Henry, used to being treated like a jungle gym, stood still and patient even as everyone around him stared at the giggling blonde hellion astride his back.

"You all set?" Henry asked.

" _Yes!_ " Ian said gleefully.

"Wanna go find Ava?"

"Did she bring ice cream?"

"I mean, she knows you're here, so probably..."

They moved away through the crowd, and as they did, Killian spotted Morty, standing solemnly by himself.

"Congratulations," Killian said, approaching him with his hand extended.

Breaking into a grin, Morty -- once Mordred -- clasped his hand and shook it. "Thank you," he said, voice deep but soft.  

"You've come a long way," Killian said. "Emma and I are proud of the man you've become."

The boy's tan cheeks turned suddenly pink.

"I'm proud of you as well," Lancelot said, emerging from the crowd. He stepped up beside Morty and clapped him hard on the shoulder, making the boys knees buckle a little. Morty and Lancelot were now nearly the same height, and while Morty was as broad-shouldered and muscle-armed as ever, Lancelot was even more so.

"Your mother would be proud," Lancelot added, and Morty's blush went from pink to scarlet.

"Not yet," he said quietly. "I've not yet done right by her memory."

"Are your plans still to leave us?" Killian asked.

"Yes," Morty said. "I've still much to learn before I'm ready to return to Camelot, and I think Storybrooke has given me everything it can."

Killian nodded. "Well, I'll be sad to see you go, but I agree it's for the best. I wish you luck on your journeys, and -- "

"MORTY!" Ian appeared out of nowhere and skidded to a halt at Morty's feet. "Hey! Morty!"

Morty blinked down at him in surprise and said, "Yes?"

"FIGHT ME!" Ian said, and jumped into a boxing position, small fists held high in a guard.

Morty handed Lancelot his diploma, then adopted a stance identical to Ian's. Ian growled and threw a slow-motion punch, and Mordred pretended to be knocked backwards from the blow. Ian giggled and pursued, throwing more fake punches and dodging Mordred's.

Henry arrived, Ava on his elbow, holding a towering ice cream cone in either hand. He watched Ian and Mordred box, and his eyes glittered with amusement.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this one in two, because otherwise it would take me another week to finish it, so we're safe for at least that long. Things are about back to normal at work, so hopefully I'll have the next chapter finished and posted within the week!

_Camelot, 13 years in the future_

It was Mordred's 13th birthday, and he hadn't seen his father for nearly a week.

Truthfully, that wasn't unusual: Mordred's birthday was also the anniversary of his mother Guinevere's death, and every year his father shut himself up for days at a time, until it had passed. Mordred had pretty much grown accustomed to his father's absence at his birthday celebrations, and although he'd never admit it out loud, The Knights of the Round Table were far better company anyway.

Except this year they were all gone, sent on a quest far away from Camelot, and Mordred felt lonelier than ever.

And so he sought out his father.

Arthur spent the majority of his time locked away in Merlin's Tower, so that was where Mordred looked first. The pile of untouched serving trays bearing several days' worth of meals outside the doors to the library told him he'd come to the right place.

He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. Perhaps he shouldn't be doing this, after all.

Mordred knew why his father couldn't look him in the eyes on his birthday; everyone always told him he looked exactly like his mother -- right before they told him how deeply his father had loved her.

Arthur had never truly stopped grieving Guinevere's death.

But Mordred missed her as well, despite never having known her. He missed her every morning, when there was no one to greet him at the breakfast table save for his father's surliness (when his father was even there at all), and he missed her every night when there was no one to wish him a good sleep.

Mordred set his jaw. Perhaps today, just this once, he and his father could miss Guinevere together.

He knocked -- three swift, hard blows -- and waited.

There was no answer. Mordred knocked again with the same result. Resolved not to back down, Mordred opened the door and stepped inside.

"Father? Oh -- " Mordred halted. His father was sitting at the reading table in the center of the room, slumped forward over an open book.

For a moment Mordred though his father had merely fallen asleep -- but then the stench hit him.

Mordred clamped both hands against his nose and mouth, swallowed down the bile rising in his throat, and took a few halting steps forward. He needed to see his face, he needed to know for certain whether or not...whether or not his father was --

As he skirted the table and caught his first, true glimpse of death there was a scream from the doorway, followed by a metallic crash and the clatter of ceramic breaking on stone, then the sound of footsteps quickly rushing back down the tower stairs. Mordred didn't turn around -- he couldn't, he was frozen, staring into the glazed eyes of his father, looking back at him sightlessly from a slack, grey-skinned face.

King Arthur was dead. His father was dead.

Mordred tried to muster up a feeling in response, but all  he felt was...empty.

He couldn't be certain for how long he stood there. He was distantly aware of a crowd gathering silently outside the door, watching him, waiting for his reaction, waiting for something, _anything_.

But Mordred had _nothing_.

Finally, someone pushed through the crowd, and the glint of armor caught Mordred's eye. He looked up to see Gawain, the youngest of his father's Knights, and perhaps Mordred's best friend among them.

"Y-you're back," was all Mordred could manage to say.

Gawain searched Mordred's face, then rounded on the throng behind him. He barked a few orders, sending everyone gathered scurrying away, then closed the door and turned back to Mordred.

"It's true then," he said quietly to Mordred. "They're whispering it all over the castle."

Mordred's eyes skittered away from Gawain, back to his father.

"Yes."

They both stood in silence for a moment, then Mordred swallowed hard and asked, "Where are the others?"

It took Gawain a while to answer, and Mordred knew what he would say before the words even left his mouth.

"They're all dead," Gawain said softly, and Mordred heard the grief in his voice, a grief he felt sitting cold and heavy in his own chest.

"Did you succeed?" he asked roughly.

Gawain straightened abruptly and his gaze lifted as if he was looking at something hovering just over Mordred's head. When he spoke it was with the brisk, clipped tones he used when speaking to Mordred's father.

"Yes, sire," he said.

_Sire._

Arthur was dead. Which meant Mordred was...

_No._

He pushed it away.

He didn't want that. He wasn't ready for that.

"May I see it?" Mordred asked, struggling to keep control of his thoughts, to keep his emotions from spinning out of control.

Gawain nodded. Wordlessly he reached a hand into the satchel at his hip and drew out a pair of glittering red slippers.

Mordred's eyes widened in disbelief. Nine of his father's best knights lost for a pair of _shoes_?

The suddenness of his own anger staggered him. He felt his face twist in rage. He looked back at his father, _hating_ him, hating him with every fiber of his being.

Then he noticed the book his father's head rested on.

It was the history book his father obsessed over, the one that told the tale of the invaders from a land called Storybrooke. It was opened to the page that showed an image of Zelena, the green-skinned witch who had once been his father's ally. Something clicked into place inside Mordred's mind, and his anger fell away.

Gawain was watching him, reading the changes in his expression. "Sire," he said. "What will you do?"

Mordred took a deep breath, drawing himself up, straightening his back and shoulders, lifting his chin. Then, he smiled. "I'm going to do what my father couldn't. I'm going to kill Emma Swan and Killian Jones. I'm going to destroy the land called Storybrooke. And then I'm going to make Camelot great again."

-

_Storybrooke, now_

"Truthfully, I wasn't entirely certain Storybrooke existed," Mordred said. "Or that Emma Swan and Killian Jones were even real people. But when I came here -- in the future, with Zelena -- and saw that you _were_ real, and that you were living here happily while my father...my father..." His fists clenched on his knees, and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a grimace. "I snapped. Zelena ordered me to kill you and I did so gladly."

A heavy silence descended upon the room. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock over the doorway to the break room, and the labored hum of the computers.

Mordred's eyes had been fixed on Emma's boots throughout his story, as if it was easier to speak to them than to anyone else in the room, but suddenly he lifted them and looked straight into Emma's eyes.

"I know words can't change what I've done," he said, "but I'm sorry."

Emma held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod.

She glanced over at Killian and the boys. The three of them sat perched in neat a row along the edge of one of the desks (now officially the night deputy's desk) like birds on a wire. Killian and Henry both studied Mordred with sympathy, though Killian's stare had a hard edge to it -- the look of someone who understood how easily righteous anger could morph into a thirst for vengeance.

"Words can't change the past, that's true," Killian said. "But your actions can help make up for your mistakes."

"And the first step down that road is forgiving yourself, and remembering that you're still capable of good," Emma added.

Mordred swallowed hard, and his eyes skittered down to his hands, twisted together in his lap.

"Okay," he said.

It felt final. Some of the tension seemed to drain from the room.

Something suddenly occurred to Emma. "What happened to the Ruby Slippers after you got to Storybrooke?" she asked.

"They were destroyed. It took every ounce of their magic to break through the protection spell surrounding this town. We almost didn't make it."

Emma turned curiously to Ian. "Protection spell on the town?"

"Yea, it keeps anyone from being able to open a portal or a doorway into Storybrooke. The Ruby Slippers must have been powerful, and -- actually, I've got a question," he paused and smirked, and Emma knew that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was trouble, but she had no time to stop him. "Who wore the Ruby Slippers, you or Zelena?"

Emma rolled her eyes. Henry made a noise halfway between a laugh and a grunt of disapproval. Killian opened his mouth, but then closed it with a resigned huff.

"I did," Mordred said. "Why?"

"I -- oh," Ian said. The smirk slipped from his lips. "Um..."

Mordred broke into a grin, his eyes glinting gleefully. Henry snorted and started laughing, and then Ian slowly smiled.

"I guess you're not a robot, after all," he said.

"What's a robot?" Mordred asked, eyebrows raised.

" _That_ ," Henry said, "would be best explained by a movie night."

"What's a movie?" Mordred said, giving a small, confused shake of his head.

Henry launched into an explanation (Emma heard the delight in his voice -- his excitement to have a fresh, blank slate of a human being who needed introduction to this realm and its many wonders) but he was interrupted almost immediately by Regina.

"Alright, I'm here," she said, sweeping into the office with a sulky frown -- even the click of her heels sounded reluctant.

"Did you bring it?" Emma asked.

Looking sour, Regina stuck her hand inside her coat and drew out the apprentice's wand. Emma had seen it once before, when they'd used it to open a doorway to return Arthur and his people to Camelot. Tonight, they would use it to contact Lancelot.

Emma turned to Mordred.

"Alright, kid. Time to make a decision. Do you want to do this, or not?"

Mordred hesitated. "What if he doesn't want to come?"

"He will," said David's voice from the doorway.

Mary Margaret was beside him. "David's right. He'll come."

"You're certain you can convince him?" Regina asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Us?" David asked, then shrugged. "Probably not. Lancelot's a man of honor, and despite his exile, _we'd_ never be able to convince him to abandon Camelot. His _King_ , however..."

David trailed off, and looked pointedly at Mordred, who's mouth fell open.

"I'm not -- "

"You _are_ ," Mary Margaret said, smiling and nodding in encouragement. " _You're_ the King of Camelot."

"Not _now_ ," Mordred said, shifting nervously in his seat. "Not in this time. My father's the king. I can't order Lancelot to come to Storybrooke."

"You won't have to," David said. "Once we explain the situation, Lancelot will understand that coming to Storybrooke is actually in Camelot's best interest."

"It's too late to help Arthur," Mary Margaret added, sadness in her voice and sympathy in her eyes. "But Lancelot can help _you_. And he _will_."

Emma saw the crease disappear from Mordred's forehead, saw the way his shoulders relaxed but his jaw set, and, before he had a chance to change his mind or lose his nerve, asked, "You ready?"

Mordred looked at her, and nodded.

Regina crossed her arms and said moodily, "And you're all _positive_ this needs to be done right this instant?"

"I don't see the point in wasting time -- " Emma started.

" _Time_ is exactly my point. We apparently don't have much of it," Regina said, and gestured towards Emma's belly. Emma's hands rose to it protectively and she glared. Killian moved to stand behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body. His fingers brushed against her back gently.

Emma's scowl only seemed to upset Regina more.

"There are more _urgent_ things we could be doing," she spat, her voice rising. "We still haven't put a protection spell on the barn. We should probably put one on the hospital, just to be safe. We have absolutely no idea how we're going to capture Zelena. Oh, and then there's the Memory Curse -- "

"The Memory Curse is fine," Ian interjected.

"Yea," Henry said, checking his watch. "We still have 2 hours to go until it's finished."

Regina looked like she wanted to argue, but Ian interrupted her again.

 _"_ 7 days to brew the first set of ingredients, then 7 minutes to add the second set, and then 7 hours to settle," Ian said with the tone of someone reciting something from memory. "We put the second set of ingredients in at 11 o'clock -- and no, we didn't make any mistakes so don't even start -- which means it'll be ready at 6."

"And we can do the protection spells tomorrow morning," Emma said, jumping in. "We have time, right?"

She looked to Ian to back her up, and sort of regretted it.

"Yes," he answered, then glanced at the calendar.

Emma briefly wondered which day he was looking for. March 1st was on Sunday, less than two days away...

_No._

She pushed her curiosity away.

Everything was going to be okay. It _had_ to be. The living proof was right there in front of her: Ian. Ian who had her hair and Killian's eyes. Ian with his bright smile, his heart full of light. Ian who was so much like Killian it made Emma's heart ache with love for the both of them.

"Fine," Regina said, but as she raised the apprentice's wand, she paused.

"Regina? What is it?" Emma asked.

Regina dropped her arm to cradle the wand with both hands. She didn't look at them as she said, "I don't think I can make it work."

"You did it before," Killian said. "Twice."

" _Before_ I was protecting Rowan. The second time I was still sort of riding the rush from the first time. Now? I don't know -- it doesn't feel urgent enough. I don't think I can summon enough magic."

"Can I -- I don't know, can I lend you some of my magic, or something?"

She expected Regina to snap back with something like, " _That's not how magic works,"_ but instead she got a stiff, "I suppose if you link your magic to mine I could draw what I need to open the doorway."

Emma stepped away from Killian to stand next to Regina.

"So, um, do I just...do we hold hands or something?" she asked, and offered her hand, palm up. She of course had no clue how this sort of thing might work, but she'd seen a few movies, after all.

"Yes. A physical connection aids the process," Regina said, then took Emma's hand. "Now, let me lead. You're going to feel a pull on your magic. You need to just let it happen."

Emma felt it immediately. A tingling like pins-and-needles travelled up her arm and then down to her center, below her rib cage but above the baby, where she visualized her magic as a white flame burning inside her. There was a tug, and the light flared.

Emma let Regina draw the magic from her, while she concentrated on keeping the baby's magic safe. As he'd grown his magic had grown, and now the threads of his magic were so extensively and intricately tangled up with hers she could barely tell where hers ended and his began.

Suddenly, the little fire inside him -- the core of his magic -- flickered and then flashed brightly. Panic seized Emma, and she slammed the conduit between her and Regina shut.

The tiny flame returned to normal, and Emma relaxed.

Regina made an impatient noise. "Why did you stop me? What's taking so long?"

"I'm trying to keep the baby's magic out of this," she said. "So either wait or you can find someone else's magic to use, and I'm pretty sure that means Ian, so have fun convincing him -- "

Emma caught a glimpse of Ian's smirking face out of the corner of her eye.

"I'll wait," Regina said through gritted teeth.

"Take your time, love," Killian said, and Emma didn't need to look at him to know he was glaring balefully at Regina -- she could _feel_ it.

After a few minutes of gently maneuvering the threads of the baby's magic to clear a pathway for Regina, Emma let out a deep breath and said, "Okay. I think I've got it. You're good. Keep going."

Regina started drawing on Emma's magic again, but right away it was too much -- _way_ too much. Pain shot through her belly, a tightening and then severe pressure, spreading all the way from her belly around to her back.

Emma inhaled sharply. " _Regina_ \-- " she said, but before she could finish her sentence the pull on her magic stopped.

The wand in Regina's hand was glowing purple. Regina gave it a little flourish, and a doorway appeared in the middle of the station, right in front of the cells.

Killian was at her side. "Emma?" he asked. His voice was low and soft and for her ears alone.

"It's fine," she whispered back, shaking her head. She balled her hands into fists to keep them from moving to cover her stomach. The pain had reached its peak and was now receding. The tightness in her belly began to loosen.

Emma was aware of her parents hovering behind Killian. Her eyes flickered to them briefly. They were watching her, clearly concerned but allowing her and Killian their space.

" _Emma_."

"Later. _Please_ ," she said, turning into Killian's waiting arms. His hand and hook settled at her waist. She matched his stare, meeting his worried blue eyes with her own, imploring green ones. "Let's just get Lancelot and make sure Mordred's okay."

Killian searched her eyes for a moment longer, and then nodded.

-

The door opened onto the stone-strewn shore of a lake. It was dusk, and Lancelot was sitting beside a fire alone near the water's edge. He spun towards the sound of the door opening, sword half-drawn, but stopped when he saw them. Emma could imagine how bizarre the scene looked: a door where there should be no door, opening onto a room that couldn't possibly be there, crowded with half a dozen people, gazing back warily.

"David? Snow?" Lancelot asked. He shoved his sword back into its sheath and stood.

David turned to Emma. "Let us handle this," he said, smiling.

Emma smiled back. "Alright," she said. She knew Lancelot was her parents' friend, knew how excited they were at the possibility of reuniting with him, of having him join them in Storybrooke.

David and Mary Margaret went through. Mordred stepped up to the doorway, hesitated a moment, and then followed. David stopped, looked at Mordred in surprise, then his smile grew, and he extended an arm, gathering him into the fold, offering him a place to walk in between them.

Emma watched their backs until they reached the light from Lancelot's fire, then she turned back into the room.

"I guess we wait, then?" Regina asked. She tucked the wand away and sat in Emma's chair.

"I'll grab us something to drink," Emma said, and made her way through the office to the break room.

She felt Killian following her, and reached her hand back. His fingers slipped between hers, and she led him into the quiet of the break room.

"What happened back there, love?" he asked, as soon as they were alone.

Emma turned, both hands against her stomach, pressing Killian's in between hers and her sweater. The pain from earlier was gone, but its echo remained. Having Killian's palm there was soothing.

"The baby's magic and mine are pretty tangled up," she said quietly. "When Regina was using my magic, I think she used some of his too, and I felt it...it felt like a labor contraction."

She felt him tense up.

"Do we need to go to the hospital?" he asked, voice hard and urgent.

"No," she said, and patted his hand reassuringly. "It passed. I feel fine."

"Are you certain?" he pressed.

"Yea, yea. I'm fine."

His arms were around her in an instant, one arm at the small of her back, pulling her close against his chest, while the other cradled the back of her head. He kissed her forehead lightly, then rested his cheek against her temple.  

"Perhaps you should take it easy on the magic, love," he said.

She nodded. "It's been getting harder to make it work again. He's getting bigger and his magic's growing. It all tied up with mine -- like a sailor's knot."

Killian chuckled at the reference, and the sound made Emma smile.

There was a noise from the hallway, and Emma realized there was someone standing around the corner, just outside the break room door.

"You can come in," Emma called, knowing _exactly_ who it was.

Ian peeked his head around the doorway.

"Hey," he said. "I felt the thing with your magic -- are you okay?"

"Yea, kid. Just tired," she said, and she leaned her head down to rest it on Killian's shoulder. "That took a bit more out of me than I expected."

"Here," Ian said, stepping into the room and extending his hand.

"Huh?"

"C'mon," Ian said, grinning and wiggling his fingers.

Half smiling, Emma took his hand, and their magic linked.

It was a completely different feeling from before. Emma felt all her magic light up at once, like a light bulb being plugged into a socket. She felt his magic pouring into her, feeding the flame at her center until her fatigue faded.

"Have we done this before?" she asked.

"Yea. Usually the other way around though," Ian said. To her eyes, he looked like he was glowing. She saw the same white fire burning just below his rib cage, and the branches like veins that spread the magic through his body, like a circulatory system.

"Can you see what I see?" Emma asked.

"Yea," he said with a grin. "Pretty cool, right? Only -- wow, hey, I can see me. Damn. Yea. Our magic really is all donked up together."

Killian looked between them curiously, an awe-filled smile on his face. "Are you two seeing each others' magic?"

"Uh-huh," Ian said.

"Wait, why couldn't I see Regina's magic?" Emma asked.

"Ew, why would you even want to?"

" _Ian_."

Ian dropped his hand. Emma blinked, and the glow disappeared from around him.

"Her magic's different," Ian said, shrugging. "Ours is the same. I mean, it's light magic, but mine also came from yours, you know?"

"Yea, I think I know," Emma said. Killian and their son shared a love for the sea -- that was their thing, Emma knew -- but her and Ian...they had their magic.

-

"Emma," Regina called from the office.

Emma, Killian, and Ian, each carrying two steaming mugs of tea, returned to see that David and Mary Margraret were back with Mordred. Lancelot was there too, looking uneasy but determined all at the same time.

Emma handed a mug to either of her parents, then held her hand out to Lancelot and said, "Hi, I'm -- "

"Emma, " he said, smiling slowly. "I know. I heard a lot about you."

He took her hand, and as he did, Emma saw in her mind an image of him kissing Belle, his hands entwined in her hair while hers unbuttoned his shirt -- Emma blinked rapidly, trying to clear her thoughts -- could Lancelot be the one Ian had said was perfect for Belle? -- and stuttered out, "Um, oh -- in Camelot? Yea...not really one of my better moments."

"Even so, I was disappointed I didn't get a chance to meet you," he said, still smiling. There was something gentle and carefree about his smile, and it put Emma at ease. "I consider your parents to be my best friends. I married them, you know -- "

"I know," she said.

"Hey, maybe one day when Emma gets married, you can -- " David said, but Mary Margaret smacked him on the arm and shushed him.

"David, _now is not the time_ ," she hissed. Lancelot laughed, but David just looked expectantly at Killian, who turned away and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Can we get dinner?" Ian interjected loudly. "I'm _starving_."

"Granny's?" Killian suggested, smiling at Emma. She could totally go for a grilled cheese and some onion rings. She put one arm around Henry's shoulders, and the other around Ian's, and started steering them towards the door -- towards _food_.

"Is Granny's the inn you flew into Camelot?" Lancelot asked.

"That's the one," David said.

"They have very good hamburgers," Mordred said.

"What's a hamburger?"

-

At Granny's Emma, Killian, Ian, and her parents took the table by the window and let Mordred and Lancelot have a booth to themselves. Regina had taken Henry home with her, after they'd stopped at the school so the boys could break in (Emma and Killian had watched half with amusement, and half with a sort of shameful guilt as Ian picked the lock on the school doors) and retrieve the Memory Curse, which now sat in a vial in the center of the table, in a space conspicuously clear of plates and soda glasses. The contents were yellow-gold, looking somehow between a liquid and a gas, and swirled restlessly.

Emma kept glancing down at it. That little vial held the curse that would make her and Killian forget their son for 13 years. They'd forget how brave he'd been, they'd forget all the people he'd helped, they'd forget every sarcastic remark and every smirk...

She slid one hand along the table to touch her fingertips to the vial. She saw a flash of the future, of her, Killian, and Henry standing in the woods, dumping the vial into the well. She saw how huge her belly was -- twice as large as it was now -- and she saw Henry and Killian's anxious and drawn expressions, and hers, filled with _pain_.

She withdrew her hand quickly. She didn't know how, but that moment felt _close_.

Killian was talking with David and hadn't noticed, but Ian was watching her. When he caught her eye, he quirked one eyebrow questioningly.

She shrugged and shook her head, waved her hand dismissively, and said, "How do you turn this future-seeing thing off? It's like I can't touch anything without seeing a piece of something that's going to happen."

"You can't really turn it off. You sort of just get used to knowing things about people when you touch them. Or touch something they touched."

"Wait -- can you do the same thing?"

"Yea," he said, then he made a face as he considered. "Well, I don't -- I _can't_ \-- see the future the way you can. I mean, I can do the touching thing, and sometimes I can look at a person and know things about them, but it's different."

Everyone at the table was listening now.

"What about your dreams?" Killian asked. "You said you often get nightmares when bad things are about to happen to Storybrooke."

"Yea, but my dreams aren't predictions of the future, they're...premonitions. Like...you know how animals can always sense when there's a big storm coming?"

"Aye," Killian said, and Emma, David, and Mary Margaret said, "Yes."

"It's like that."

Their dinner arrived then, and everyone busied themselves with their meals. Emma ate quickly, and it took one whole grilled cheese and half of another to take the edge off her hunger. Killian watched out of the corner of his eye, an amused smile tugging at his lips, and kept slipping more fries onto her plate -- which she ate gladly.

When they finished, the waitress returned to clear the table and take dessert orders -- Emma ordered a slice of chocolate cake and Ian ordered strawberry shortcake -- then they all leaned back in their chairs, full and content.

"What do you think they're talking about?" David asked quietly, nodding his chin towards where Lancelot and Mordred sat, talking quietly over their burgers.

"Guinevere," Killian said, and everyone looked at him curiously. He shrugged, and said, "I can read his lips. Lancelot just said 'you look exactly like your mother', and then after Mordred responded to that, he said, 'I loved her'."

"Oh, _David_ ," Mary Margaret said, looking at David sadly.

"I know," David answered, taking her hands in his. "He's here now, though. Maybe he'll find his happy ending in Storybrooke -- he definitely wouldn't be the first."

"Hey," Emma said, turning to Ian, suddenly remembering what she'd seen when she shook Lancelot's hand. "You know that person you said is perfect for Belle?"

"Mmhm," Ian said.

"It wouldn't happen to be Lancelot, would it?"

Ian's grin was all the answer she needed.

"Oh, that would be really, _really_ nice," Mary Margaret said. "For both of them."

"Belle and Lance," David said, chewing it over. Then, as if summoned, Belle entered Granny's. She halted immediately, staring across the diner at Lancelot in surprise.

Slowly, a smile curled her lips. "Lancelot," she said.

"Belle," Lancelot returned, nodding. Belle's smile grew slightly at his acknowledgement, then she moved off to the counter, not even noticing Emma, Killian, Ian and her parents sitting there in the corner. Lancelot's eyes followed Belle, lingered, then returned to Mordred to give the boy his full attention once more.

"Should we say something?" Mary Margaret asked in a hushed voice. "Let her know we're here?"

"Nah," said Ian. "Let them do the whole 'sex-eyes from across the room' thing. It's, like, all they're going to get for seven years, so let them enjoy it."

Emma skipped right past the sex-eyes comment, and said, "Seven years? _Really_?"

"Yea, I don't know...it took them a really long time to get together. I think it was because of the twins. But he's their step-dad now, and they love him, so..." he trailed off and shrugged.

Emma slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled his forehead to her lips. He made a small sound of protest, but allowed it.

"You did a good job bringing him here," Emma said.

Ian rolled his eyes at her. "I didn't really do anything. And anyway, I don't think it counts since I already knew he was supposed to be here."

"Trust me, kid," she said, "it counts."

-

The three of them went to bed immediately upon reaching the house, but it was only a few short hours later when pain low in Emma's stomach woke her up. The feeling was similar to period cramps, except her belly felt _tight_.

She rolled over and was surprised to find Killian was gone. Taking long, deep breaths, she eased out of bed agonizingly slowly and shuffled from the room, both hands clamped against her stomach.

The hallway was cold, and she heard faint voices coming from Henry's room. Emma wanted to stop and listen, make sure everything was alright, but the pain in her abdomen spurred her into the bathroom. She peed, hoping an empty bladder would help, but the pain remained, so she went downstairs and into the kitchen.

She filled the electric kettle with water, left it to heat up, then began rummaging in the fridge. As she moved the orange juice out of the way she got a flash -- Ian drinking straight from the carton and returning it to the fridge empty -- and snorted.

"You're going to pick up some of my bad habits, buddy. Sorry," she said quietly to her stomach. "Hopefully your dad doesn't mind too much."

She could picture Killian's exasperated expression, and smiled.

She moved a few more things around and finally found the jar of pickles all the way at the back. She ate a few as she paced the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. She wasn't worried about the pain -- this had happened when she was pregnant with Henry, and she knew as long as it went away rather quickly, everything was okay. All she had to do was relax, and wait for it to pass. As she walked the pain in her belly eased, until she felt back to normal. 

She stopped and took a deep, steadying breath. Maybe she'd been a bit more nervous than she'd been able to admit to herself. She wondered if she should tell Killian, and decided to wait until morning -- there was no use worrying him now. They both needed sleep, and neither of them would get it if either of them was worried about the baby.

When the kettle began whistling, Emma turned it off and headed upstairs, taking a pickle with her.

She went to Henry's bedroom, following the sound of Killian and Ian's voices, and leaned out the window.

"Hey," she said. Ian and Killian whipped their heads around, and she was treated to the sight of their identical surprised stares, blue eyes wide in the moonlight.

Killian recovered first. "I'm sorry, love, did we wake you?" he asked.

"No, having to pee woke me. Putting the uterus above the bladder is sort of a design flaw," she said.

" _Ew_ ," Ian mumbled.

Killian grinned suddenly. "It looks like that's not the only thing that woke you."

Emma took a loud, crunchy bite of her pickle, and said, "The baby was hungry."

"I don't even _like_ pickles," Ian said.

"Maybe not anymore, but you used to," Emma said, rubbing her belly, then she nodded her head towards the inside of the room. "Come on inside. I made us some hot chocolates."

"Hot chocolate and pickles, love?" Killian laughed.

"The baby," was the only explanation Emma gave. "He's become _quite_ demanding these days."

Killian climbed back into the room, and then, smirking, so did Ian.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't give this chapter a final look over but I'm headed out to go ice skating so if there are any mistakes hopefully they're not huge but I'm sorry and I'll fix them later!

Emma, Ian, and Regina were at the barn bright and early the next morning -- Killian had stayed behind to catch up on some housework they'd been neglecting, and Henry was having a boy's day with Robin and Roland.

Ian was on his hands and knees on the barn floor, crawling in a slow circle around the time portal, leaving a growing ring of tightly interwoven chalk symbols behind him while Regina stood off to the side, reciting an incantation from a book that made the symbols Ian was drawing glow.

And Emma, well, Emma just hovered there.

She stood halfway between the time portal and the barn doors -- thrown wide to let in the sunlight and fresh air -- wanting to _run_ because being there made her nervous, but not wanting leave Ian on his own with Regina.

It didn't help that the baby was doing restless somersaults in her belly, either because he was responding to her jitters, or because his tiny magical spidey-senses were picking up some flash of his very-near future...

In her dream vision of the future she'd seen Zelena rip the baby right from her womb, dragging a squalling infant into the world on a tidal wave of blood.

Emma cringed inside as the memory nearly made her vomit.

  _No,_ she told herself firmly. _Ian said he was born in the hospital_.

But then, a nasty little voice whispered, _A picture proves nothing._

And she knew that voice could be right. The picture was of _after_ , meaning there was a possibility that his actual birth had happened here, at the farm.

"Mom," Ian said suddenly, drawing her attention back to reality. He was watching her with a worried frown and a little crease between his eyebrows, and Emma realized that, unconsciously, she'd seized her magic and extended it beyond her body, like a force field.

Regina looked curiously between them -- she could neither see nor sense what Ian did. Emma released her hold on her magic, and the protective barrier she'd created dropped away.

"I'm going to walk for a bit," she said. "The baby's kinda wiggly. It helps if I move around."

Regina's eyes narrowed doubtfully, but Emma just flashed Ian a smile -- _everything's alright, kid_ \-- and wandered outside. She was afraid to touch anything, afraid of what she might see if she did, so she kept her hands firmly cupping her belly and started walking, tracing a short circuit from the barn to the farmhouse around to the storm cellar and then back.

The baby began to relax, but even as he did Emma felt a contraction grip her. She sucked in a surprised breath and stumbled to a halt. It was stronger than the ones she'd felt the night before, and even though it passed quickly, it left her feeling shaky.

"It's okay," she whispered to herself. "It's okay."

_Braxton Hicks contractions. That's all. You're fine._

She'd had them with Henry, although they hadn't started until around 30 weeks, and they hadn't been nearly as painful.

She started walking again, taking huge, refreshing gulps of the crisp, spring-like air, turning her face into the sun, focusing on the way it warmed her skin.

Two minutes later she felt another one, but she forced her legs to keep moving, and told herself that if she felt a third within the next five minutes, she'd call Killian and they'd go to the hospital -- she'd had a contraction that morning, as she was leaving the house. So, all told, that made three so far. She'd read somewhere that four within an hour meant...

_Preterm labor._

But a fourth one never came, and Emma relaxed again.

The baby was absolutely still inside her, and worried that the contractions may have frightened him, she started humming as she walked. The song was one of Killian's (of course). She didn't know the words, as it was the one in another language -- the one his mother had sang to him -- but she knew the tune. Whenever Killian sang it she felt both solidly grounded, safe and snug in his arms, and transported, transported to some calm ocean far away, where the black waters reflected a star strewn sky.

She felt Ian's magic from the barn, but didn't go to investigate. Instead, she let her senses tell her what was happening: Ian and Regina were closing the trap, pouring magic into the circle to both seal it and ensure it had enough power to contain the time portal next time it was activated.

Emma had asked if they would do the additional spell -- the one that required Ian's blood and would seal the portal permanently once he passed through it -- but apparently that spell wasn't precise enough to tell the difference between someone travelling into the portal and someone coming out of it; nor would it be able to distinguish Ian from anyone who carried his DNA -- such as, for example, his _parents_.

Meaning, the future versions of Emma and Killian coming through the time portal might trigger the extra spell and close the time portal for good.

When they finished, Ian put the protection spell on the barn, to keep Zelena out. Emma felt the strain on his magic, felt how he was tiring, and when he and Regina emerged from the barn, she asked, "Are you okay to do the hospital today, too? It can wait until tomorrow."

Ian shook his head. "It can't wait," he said determinedly, then his expression softened and he added, "I can do it. I'm just gonna need a nap afterwards. And maybe something to eat."

Emma grinned. She, Killian, and Ian had eaten a large breakfast of chocolate-chip pancakes and bacon less than two hours ago, but she was already feeling hungry again.

"What do you have a taste for?" she asked.

"Pizza."

"You're speaking my language, kid. Do you want to do Nick's or do you wanna try that new place?"

"Antonio's? No way, it's terrible."

"It _just_ opened!"

"Yea, and unfortunately it's _still_ open 13 years from now."

Emma snorted. "Alright, alright. We'll do Nick's. Sausage, or pepper -- "

She stopped suddenly and whirled around, expecting to find someone standing inches behind her, but there was no one.

Ian stopped too. "Mom, what is it?"

Nothing moved, not even the wind. Everything was still, and yet the hairs on the back of her neck were on end. A chill crept up her spine and made her shiver.

"Mom?"

The farm was completely deserted, but she could have sworn...

"Emma?" Regina, walking ahead of them, had also stopped.

"Nothing," Emma said. "I just thought..."

_I just thought I felt Zelena._

"Just thought what?" Regina prodded.

She tore her eyes from the empty landscape and fixed them straight ahead, on the yellow bug parked less than 100 feet away.

"Nothing," she said. "It's nothing. Let's go."

-

The hospital was a much larger building than the barn, and Ian, tired as he was already, visibly struggled with the protection spell.

On instinct, Emma jumped in and grabbed his hand, opening up a channel between her magic and his. Ian drew on it without hesitation, easily navigating a pathway that avoided pulling on the baby's magic, and built a shimmering white wall that encased the hospital.

They stood for a moment and watched as it faded and became invisible, then left the building for the parking lot.

"You're a regular Harry Potter," Emma complimented.

"I learned from the best," Ian said, then in an undertone, added, "And I don't mean Regina."

As they reached their cars and said their goodbyes, Regina pulled something from her pocket and held it out to Emma. It was one of Cora's enchanted cuffs, the ones that blocked the magic of whoever wore it.

"What's this for?" Emma asked, eyeing the cuff with distaste. The thing made her uneasy -- it was _hungry_ , eager to eat up her magic.

"It's for Zelena," Regina said, with a touch of irritation. "I've got the other one. I think we should each start carrying one around with us at all times, just in case."

Emma nodded in agreement and carefully took the cuff between thumb and forefinger. As soon as she touched it, she saw Zelena on her knees in the barn, clawing at the cuff on her wrist, while standing over her, watching, were...

Emma blinked and shook her head slightly to clear it. That was weird -- there had been one too many Killians and one too many Emmas in that vision...

Ian had one eyebrow quirked curiously, but when Emma offered him the cuff to see for himself he jerked his whole body backwards, away from it.

" _Hell no_ ," he said. "That thing feels _gross_."

Grinning, she took a step towards him, and, laughing, he batted her hand to the side and ducked away.

"What's wrong with you two?" Regina snapped.

"Nothing," Emma said.

_Besides actually having a sense of humor._

She carefully tucked the cuff into her coat pocket. "Will you tell Henry we'll pick him tomorrow morning for breakfast?"

-

Emma had texted Killian about the pizza, so by the time she and Ian arrived home, it was already there. Ian caught sight of it as soon as they walked through the door and moaned appreciatively, then made a beeline for the kitchen table, forcing Killian to dodge around him.

"I take it everything went well?" Killian asked, stepping up behind her to help her slip her jacket from her shoulders.

"It did. The kid knows his stuff. It just took a lot out of him," she said.

"Nothing an entire pizza can't fix, I'm sure," Killian said.

Emma slipped out of her boots, turned into Killian's arms, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Thank you," she said.

"For the pizza? Of course," he said. "Anything for my two hungry heroes." He brushed the back of his fingers along her stomach. "Well, my _three_ hungry heroes."

His touch against her belly reminded her of her contractions, and she tucked her face into his neck, buying herself a few moments to think.

Should she tell him?

_Yes._

It wasn't that she didn't want Killian to _know_ , she just didn't want him to _worry_. And he would, if he knew, no matter what. But what had hiding things from him because she didn't want him to worry gotten her last time?

The words were on the tip of her tongue: _I've been having contractions all morning._

She clutched him tighter.

"You alright, love? Aren't you hungry? You'd better get in there, before there's nothing left," Killian said, and Emma lost her momentum.

She felt fine now -- just a dull backache. If she felt another contraction... _then_ she'd tell him. Right now she just wanted to enjoy a Saturday afternoon with two of her boys (three if you counted the wiggly little peanut inside her belly).

She pulled away, kissed Killian once more -- a slow, soft slide of her lips against his with just a slight, teasing hint of tongue; a kiss that made Killian's hand tighten on her waist -- and went to join Ian at the table.

"Aren't you gonna eat any?" she asked Killian over her shoulder.

Killian had to clear his throat before answering, "No thank you, love." Then he grinned and his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I'm still full from breakfast."

"More for us," Ian said around a mouthful of cheese.

Emma selected a slice and took a bite. Her nose wrinkled immediately.

"This pizza sorta tastes funny," she said, then looked at the pizza in her hands accusingly.

"Yea, a little," Ian said.

"Maybe we should have tried that new place, huh?"

Ian shook his head and stubbornly stuffed more pizza into his mouth.

Emma hesitated, a little put off by the odd taste, but her stomach grumbled warningly, and she gave in to her hunger, eating quickly to avoid the weird feeling the pizza left in her mouth. They demolished the pizza easily, but Emma was still hungry.

She looked at Ian, gazing forlornly at the empty box on the table.

"Think you have room for some ice cream?" she asked.

"Mom, I _always_ have room for ice cream," he said, and jumped up from his chair to fetch the gallon of rocky road from the freezer.

Killian was grinning happily. "You two _do_ realize that pizza and ice cream for lunch means we're having broccoli and boiled mackerel for dinner, correct?"

-

When Ian had shuffled off to the den to put on a movie and take a nap, Emma went to the coat hooks by the front door and withdrew the enchanted cuff from her jacket pocket, then brought it back to the table.

"Is that for Zelena?" Killian asked.

"Yea," she said quietly, turning the cuff in her hands.

"What's wrong?"

"When I touched it earlier, I saw us using it on Zelena."

"That's good, right?"

"Yea..."

"You don't _sound_ like it's good."

Emma shook her head. "At the barn...I felt sorta weird."

 _I'm having contractions_ , she thought, but quickly put a muzzle on that inner voice and said instead, "Do you think Zelena's still watching us?"

Killian took a deep breath. "Yes," he said, and Emma just nodded. "She's likely waiting for an opportunity to strike."

They still had no clue how Zelena was going to accelerate her pregnancy. Was she just going to show up at their front door, and --

The doorbell rang.

Emma jerked her head up in surprise, one wild thought running through her mind. "Do you think that's Zelena?" she asked.

Killian started laughing, and Emma did too.

"I wish, love,"  Killian said. "Then you could just magic this cuff onto her wrist and be done with it."

"What I wouldn't give for an ending like that," Emma said, shaking her head.

_If only things were that easy around here._

Killian sobered slightly. His hand slid across the table to cover hers. "Hey, love. Don't worry. We'll get through this. Everything will be fine."

Before she could respond, the doorbell ringing a second time, prompting Emma out of her chair. She opened the door to find Mary Margaret with baby Neal and Belle standing on the porch, beaming at her.

Emma was immediately suspicious: their smiles were _too_ sunny.

She stepped aside anyway so they could get in the door, and said, "Hey. Come on in."

But neither of them moved.

"Actually," Belle said, glancing once at Mary Margaret. "You're coming with us."

"Uh..."

"Okay, so you know how you said you don't want a baby shower?" Mary Margaret said in a rush.

"Yea," Emma said slowly, not bothering to hide her apprehension.

"We were thinking -- since we can't throw you a baby shower -- that maybe instead you'd let us take you shopping."

"For the baby," Belle clarified.

"Oh," Emma said. "Well, I, um..."

_I want to take a nap._

"I think that a little shopping is a _marvelous_ idea," Killian said, suddenly appearing next to Emma, his smile was bright enough to match Belle and Mary Margaret's.

Emma wanted to glare at him -- she didn't want to shop; she wanted a nap -- but she couldn't with her mom and Belle watching, so she settled for sliding her foot back minutely and setting her heel hard into his toes.

Killian gave a quiet grunt of pain, but otherwise didn't react.

" _Perfect_ ," Mary Margaret said, looking relieved. "Killian, would you mind watching Neal then?"

Killian's smile slipped.

"That's a _marvelous_ idea, Killian. Don't you think?" Emma said, fixing him with a triumphant grin.

"I don't...I wouldn't even..." Killian stammered. "I've never been on my own with a baby before."

"Well, you're about to have one of your own," Mary Mararet said. "So I say it's about time you practiced."

After Mary Margaret had deposited Neal and his enormous bag of things (full of diapers, clothes, snacks, toys, and books) into Killian's arms, Emma was ushered down the front walkway. She cast one last look over her shoulder at Killian and felt a stab of sympathy. He had Neal on one hip, and the enormous diaper bag slung over the opposite shoulder. He stood straight-backed and grim-faced, like a man about to do battle.

Emma smiled at him, and she saw him relax. He started bouncing Neal and talking to him, and the baby turned his face up, listening, grinning back.

Emma's smile grew. She couldn't wait to see Killian with _their_ baby in his arms.

-

Despite being tired and a little cranky about being dragged out of the house, Emma actually found herself enjoying the afternoon. Her mom and Belle were good company, and their conversation eased Emma's mind and helped her pretend everything in her life was fine and normal right then: Belle was only a month behind Emma, in terms of pregnancy, and she had many questions -- all asked timidly. Emma and Mary Margaret answered frankly, and for the first time Emma actually felt like she knew what she was doing.

When they stepped into the store, the sight of all the teeny baby outfits melted Emma's heart instantly. Belle wandered over to the girls' section -- all pink -- and Emma went to the boys', but faltered.

She had no idea where to start.  

Mary Margaret noticed her wide eyes and came to her rescue. "I made you a list -- well, I actually made you a few lists," she said, and handed Emma two pieces of paper. "The first is the basic clothes you'll need in newborn size, and the other is for the up to 3 months size. And I have a another list," here she pulled out a third piece of paper, "of all the other things you're going to need: pacifiers, nail clippers, bottles -- do you think you're going to breastfeed, or...?"

"Um, actually, yea," Emma said. She'd read a few of Killian's pamphlets and done a little Google-ing, and after reading up on the health benefits of breastfeeding (for both mom and baby), it seemed foolish _not_ to do it.

"Ok, so that's a whole _other_ list," Mary Margaret said briskly, producing a _fourth_ piece of paper. "You're going to need a pump -- trust me, Emma, you'll need one: there's going to be nights when you shove a few bottles into Killian's hands and tell him he's on his own because you need to sleep -- " Emma snorted at that, "You'll need a nursing pillow, nursing pads, lanolin..."

"You really have this all planned out," Emma said, not unkindly. She shuffled through the lists, smiling at how neat and organized they were, trying to block out the idea of sore, dry, and cracked nipples. "Wait -- what about, like, a stroller? And a car seat?" she asked, and peered around. The store was pretty small, and there were no strollers or car seats in sight.

"Oh, don't worry about those," Mary Margaret said, and when Emma just gaped in confusion, she continued, "Your dad and I already bought those for you -- and a few other things. Well, actually, some of the other things were bought by other people, so I guess -- "

" _Mom_ ," Emma cut her off. "What are you talking about?"

Mary Margaret just smiled and shrugged. "Your father and I _told_ you we wanted to help. And, well, after Killian showed us the nursery and we realized you guys were still missing a lot of things your dad and I started putting a list together, and, you know, a lot of people here care about you, so we all got you a few things. And don't worry, your dad and Killian checked all the safety ratings -- "

Emma didn't know what to try and wrap her head around first. "I don't understand," she said. "Killian never mentioned anything..."

"Well, dear, it was _supposed_ to be a surprise, so of course he never mentioned it. You're not upset, are you?"

Emma shook her head slowly. "No, it's just --you guys already bought the furniture for the nursery. You didn't need to get all that other stuff. I could have done it," she said, and dropped her eyes to the lists in her hands.

"It's not about _needing_ to, Emma," Mary Margaret said, and Emma looked up again, met her mom's green gaze. "Your father and I _wanted_ to. We couldn't give you the childhood we wanted for you, but we can give you this now. So let us do it, okay?"

Mary Margaret had tears in her eyes. Emma knew exactly how she felt, because she felt that way with Henry sometimes. Emma stepped forward and hugged her mom. Mary Margaret's arms went around her immediately, holding her tightly.

"Thank you," Emma said. "I mean it. Thank you for doing this."

"Of course, Emma," her mom said. "Now, let's get started. Should we do clothes, first? That's the fun part."

-

Everything Emma picked out (bodysuits, sleepers, shirts, soft pants, socks, hats, blankets) was some shade of blue, and when she realized it she dove right back in, determined to add a few more colors to the baby's wardrobe.

As she searched, something red caught her eye, and when she pulled it out she saw it was a tiny pair of baby swimming trunks. They were red with yellow and orange fish, and Emma needed them more than she'd ever needed anything in her entire life.

She checked the size: 3-6 months. _Perfect_.

As she ran her fingers over it, smiling to herself as she imagined Killian's face when he showed him, she caught a flash of the future: the baby sitting in the sand, picking up a handful and staring at it quizzically; Killian knee-deep in the sea, bent over with the baby in his arms, dipping the baby's feet into the water and making the baby giggling. Emma blinked, and she was in the shop again.

Ian had been wearing the red swim trunks in those visions.

 _And_ , she thought, _Killian had two hands_.

She tucked that one away, however. He'd decide about his hand on his own; she wasn't going to influence him.

Emma tucked the swim trunks into the basket she carried, and rejoined Belle and Mary Margaret. They gushed over Emma's choices, and then Belle showed Emma a few things she'd picked out for the twins. Everything was pink and polka-dotted and adorable.

"Belle, these are really, _really_ cute," Emma said.

"Thank you," Belle said. Emma saw the look on her face, saw the way she couldn't take her eyes off all the tiny clothes she held, and knew that, despite the difficulties ahead, she was excited. And Emma couldn't be happier for her.

"What are these?" Mary Margaret asked, politely pointing to a stack of books stuck in Belle's basket beneath the clothes.

"Just some books," Belle said. She took them out and passed them to Emma and Mary Margaret for inspection.

Emma opened _Snuggle Puppy_ and flipped through it.

"Is there another one of these?" Emma asked.

"Do you like it?" Belle asked.

"Yea," Emma said quietly, still flipping through the book. "It reminds me of Killian. He sings to the baby all the time."

"Then I'm getting it for you," Belle said, and when Emma opened her mouth to protest, she added, "As a _gift_. Don't argue."

-

When they got back to the house, they found Killian on the couch in the den with Neal passed out in his lap. There were toys and books scattered across the rug, and lying amongst them on his back was Ian, head propped on a pillow, reading _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ aloud to Killian. He stopped when he heard Emma and Mary Margaret enter the room.

"How did it go?" Mary Margaret asked quietly.

Killian stood up carefully from the couch and eased a sleeping Neal into his mother's arms.

"Wonderful," Killian said.

"Except for that diaper change," Ian commented dryly, eyes on his book.

"Yes, well, that was...unfortunate," Killian said, cheeks pink. Emma noticed that Neal was wearing a different outfit than the one he'd arrived in.

"It's alright," Mary Margaret said. "It happens. He had strained peas for lunch, so I'm sure that didn't help. I'm sorry."

Killian waved off her apology and bent down to begin gathering the baby's toys and returning them to the diaper bag. Ian helped, retrieving rubber blocks and a ring of plastic keys from the corner of the room and tossing them over, and then they walked Mary Margaret and Neal to the door.

Emma turned to Ian, smiling knowingly. "Were you jealous, seeing your dad with another baby?" she teased.

" _Yes_ ," Ian replied tartly.

Grinning, Killian threw his arm around Ian's shoulder and drew him in, dropping loud, exaggerated kisses on his head. "Aw, lad, you know I love _you_ more than any -- " He pulled back, a strange look on his face. "When's the last time you showered?"

"Um..."

" _Go_ ," said Emma, and she used her mom voice. Ian, apparently, knew better than to argue, and it was supremely satisfying watching his eyes widen right before he turned tail and scurried up the stairs.

Killian watched him go, then turned back to Emma, shaking his head. "Where did we go wrong, Swan?"

"Did _you_ like taking baths when you were thirteen?" Emma asked.

Killian paused, thinking. "Fair point," he said, after a moment. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her hips against his. "How was shopping?"

Emma grinned. "Want to see what I got for the baby?"

His face lit up with excitement immediately. Emma led him up to the nursery. He insisted on carrying the bags up the stairs, and waited for her to get settled in the rocking chair before setting them all down at her feet.

"Show me, love," he said.

Emma took everything out one by one. Killian admired each onesie, sleeper, shirt, and little hat she passed him, then tucked them away lovingly in the drawers. He smiled at the patterns -- stripes, mostly, but plenty of anchors, little sailboats, sharks and fish, bears, monkeys, dinosaurs, fire trucks, and airplanes -- and seemed especially taken with one pair of pajamas that had stars on it.

When he got to the swim trunks he roared with laughter. "These are _perfect_ , love," he said.

"Thought you'd like them," she said, smiling to herself in satisfaction.

The socks came next, and when Emma passed them over Killian fell still. He held the tiny things in between his fingers, thumb brushing back and forth over the fabric.

"It's too small," he said quietly.

"Um, I'm pretty sure they're normal-sized," Emma said. "At least, you know, for an infant."

"He's going to be so small." His eyelashes fluttered, as if he wanted to close his eyes, but they remained open, fixed on the little socks.

"He won't be that way for long," Emma said. "They start out small, but before we know it he'll be crawling, walking..."

"Falling off things and breaking bones," Killian added. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

" _That_ ," Emma agreed.

Killian's smile remained for a moment, and then it disappeared. "Emma," he started, and Emma heard a note of desperation in his voice. "Our heart -- I want my half in my chest when the baby's born. Everything I'm going to feel...I want to actually _feel_ it."

Emma stood and went to him. She took the socks gently from his fingers, and pressed his hand to the center of her chest, over her heart. His head bowed, until his forehead rested against hers.

"I know," she said softly. "We'll get our heart back."

They stood like that, in each others arms, rocking gently back and forth, until Ian stopped in the doorway. Both Emma and Killian looked up. Ian's damp hair was a dark gold and plastered across his forehead. He had a towel clutched around his waist, and against his bare chest was the chain with Liam's ring. He took one look at them and the baby clothes, then smirked and said, "Dorks," before continuing on down the hallway.

"Don't you want to see all the new things you got?" Emma called after him. "Grandma bought you a pretty cool ear thermometer."

A snort from down the hallway was all she received in answer.

As Emma settled back in the rocking chair, her cell rang.

"What now?" Emma grumbled to herself as she pulled the phone from her jeans pocket and fumbled it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey," said David's voice. "You need to get down to the station right now. It's Zelena."

"Shit," Emma said, and hung up.

Killian was watching her, one eyebrow raised.

"We gotta go," Emma said. "We gotta get to the station."

"Is it Zelena?"

She nodded tightly.

They left the nursery, and headed downstairs.

"Ian, get dressed! We need to go! _Now_!"

He burst out of Henry's room, skinny legs clad only on boxer briefs, eyes wild, hair wilder.

"Pants, kid! _Pants_!"

-

"What _precisely_ are we looking at?" Killian asked.

They were crowded around the small television at the station, staring at the grainy, black-and-white image on the screen.

"Security camera footage from the hardware store," David answered.

"I think the hardware store could use a system update," Regina mumbled.

A figure clad in all black stood before one of the shelves. The video was of poor quality, but it was clearly Zelena -- the pointed hat and the load of cleavage peeking over the plunging neckline of her dress were a dead giveaway.

"When is this from?" Emma asked.

"Two hours ago," David said.

"What's she doing?" Killian asked.

Emma squinted and leaned closer at the same time David did. Her backache protested, but she ignored it.

"I don't know..." she said slowly, straining her eyes to see better.. "She's looking at whatever's on the shelf. Is that paint?"

"Yea, I think so," David said.

"It is," Killian said. "I was just there earlier this week."

Zelena waved her hand, and several buckets of paint disappeared from the shelves. And then Zelena herself disappeared.

"I don't get it," Killian said. "What would Zelena want _paint_ for?"

Emma leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, thinking hard.

"Maybe she's redecorating the farmhouse?" Ian said lightly.

Emma glanced over her shoulder at him and saw his eyes widen. He looked quickly to Regina, who was staring back, and then together they said, " _The farm_!"

"The farm _what_?" Emma asked, startled and confused by their reaction.

"We need to get there right now," Regina said. "It might already be too late."

-

"Okay, _now_ what are we looking at?" Emma asked.

It was nearly sunset. The farm looked as deserted as it had that morning, with one exception: there was a circle of white paint -- painted right atop the grass -- that encased both the farm and the farmhouse.

"It's a barrier," Ian said. He stepped up to the line of paint and raised his hand, pressing forward. The air shimmered beneath his palm. "You can only put protection spells on closed spaces, so she used the paint to _make_ it a closed space."

"So we can't get in," David said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Regina sighed.

"What about our protection spell? On the barn?" Emma asked.

"It's still there," Ian said.

"How do you know?" David asked.

"It's connected to my magic. I can feel it."

Killian, David, and Regina all stepped forward and tested the barrier themselves. Emma hung back. She didn't want to go near it. It felt _wrong_ : it was a barrier, it should want her to go away, but instead she felt like it wanted to suck her in...

Severe pain ripped through her abdomen, making her entire body spasm. She bent double as her uterus contracted unbearably tight, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Beneath her hands, her entire belly felt rigid.

Nobody noticed -- they all had their backs turned to her, attention fixed on the barrier and the barn beyond it.

Suddenly, everyone's voices seemed far away.

"Why did she do this?"

"She's getting ready."

"She can't get into the barn, so what's the point?"

"She must have a way to get around the protection spell."

"The only way that's happening is if I die or my magic's removed."

"And neither of those is going to happen, lad. Emma, love, what do you -- EMMA!"

She heart rushed footsteps, and Killian's voice, harsh in her ear.

"Emma, what's wrong?"

"It's fine, I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"No you're not. What's happening? Is it the baby?"

His voice was high-pitched and scared, but Emma remained silent. She kept her eyes closed until the contraction had passed, then slowly straightened. There was still pressure on her pelvis, like the baby pressing down.She needed to move, she needed to walk. She tried taking a step forward, but Killian's hands held her firmly in place.

"Emma?" Killian was staring at her, blue eyes worried.

"I've had a few contractions today," she said.

His eyebrows drew down immediately. "How many contractions?"

She didn't answer.

"Emma," he said, " _how many_?"

"This is..." she trailed off, counted quickly in her head. "Seven?"

As she said it, another one came. She bent forward again, eyes squeezed shut, and panted, "Okay, eight."

There were hands on her elbow and on her back, steering her over to the car. Someone opened the door, and then Killian helped her ease down into the seat.

Emma opened her eyes, stared at her boots in the grass, tried to ground herself, keep her mind off the pain until it had passed.

When she looked up it was into Killian's eyes. She saw his fear, a fear that mirrored her own, and a helplessness.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," she said, and her voice was almost a sob.

The whole time they'd been thinking Zelena was going accelerate her pregnancy, but maybe she didn't. Maybe...maybe Ian was just born premature.

Tears gathered in her eyes and boiled over her cheeks, leaving hot trails down her cheeks.

_Stress._

The doctor had said stress wasn't good for pregnant women. Killian had told her stress and strain on the job could cause preterm labor.

But she was only 22 weeks along.

It wasn't just early, it was _way too early_.

Having the baby now wasn't safe.

She felt another contraction, " _Fuck_ ," she ground out. " _What the fuck_."

Something was wrong. When she'd gone into labor with Henry it hadn't felt like this. What was happening?

" _Killian_ ," she hissed, as the contraction ended and another came right on its tail. "We need to go to the hospital. I think the baby's coming."

"Emma, it's too early."

The pain mounted, and the pressure on her pelvis was nearly agonizing.

She flashed back to the barn, to the night Mordred had lunged at her with a knife. It felt as vivid as if she was there again, and terror clawed its way up her throat and spilled out of her mouth in a wordless scream.

_The baby!_

She remembered the cave, as Zelena was squeezing her and Killian's heart, the surge of pain through her...

Emma's hand darted out and gripped Killian's arm, so tightly she was probably digging holes in his leather jacket right through to his skin.

_This is happening._

And then Killian's voice cut through the haze of pain. "Emma! Emma, can you make it stop?"

"I can't -- I don't know how!"

She didn't even think it was possible. If you couldn't heal yourself, you probably also couldn't stop your own goddamned body from going into labor --

"Mom, try!"

_Ian._

Ian who had complete faith in her, and in her magic -- _their_ magic.

"Mom, you can do it," Ian insisted. His voice was close.

He'd said their magic was different -- it followed different rules.

Maybe...

_No -- not maybe._

_Yes._

_It's gonna work._

_I'm going to make it work._

She put both hands on her stomach and poured her magic in.

 _You're not ready, you're not ready_ , she chanted. She wasn't sure if she was talking to her body or to the baby, but she didn't care.

She pictured her magic spreading in a wave over her belly, and then seeping slowly, gently inside, and as it went, it relaxed the muscles, relaxed her uterus...

"Mom, you're doing it! Keep going!"

The pain disappeared, the pressure disappeared, and she felt the tension leave her body.

She opened her eyes. Killian was watching her with awe, eyes wide, mouth hanging open slightly. Just behind him, Ian was grinning hugely. David hovered on Emma's other side, expression changing rapidly between confusion, concern, and relief.

"How did you do that?" Regina asked.

"I don't know," Emma said, shaking her head. She felt exhausted down to her core. Whatever she'd done, it had taken just about every ounce of magic she possessed. The white fire at her center was dim, burning low.

"We've got to get you out of here, love. We've got to get you to the hospital," Killian said. "David, can you help me move her around to the passenger side?"

-

It took a Emma's explanation, three full minutes of Dr. Whale's cold hands on her bare belly, an ultrasound, and several blood tests to determine that she had been in preterm labor, and now Emma was sitting in a hospital bed in a private room, feeling numb.

Killian hadn't spoken since they'd gotten to the hospital. He alternated between pacing anxiously and sitting on the bed beside her, her hand in his, squeezing it tight. At the moment he was in the chair he'd drawn up to her bed, reading some new pamphlets about preterm birth and its complications he'd found somewhere.

He was silent, as he read his expression grew darker and darker. And finally, Emma couldn't take it anymore. She didn't know what he was _feeling_. She didn't know if he was angry with her or if he hated her or what.

"Killian," she said, and her voice cracked.

He looked up, clearly a little startled to be pulled out of his thoughts. He saw her face and jumped up from his chair immediately. He cupped her face gently with his hand and began kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her lips.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I should have been more careful."

He shook his head. "It's not your fault, Emma."

"I should have _told_ you!" she said. "I thought everything was fine, I thought they were just Braxton Hicks contractions, I didn't want you to worry -- "

He pulled her into his arms, and shushed her. "I'm just relieved you and the baby are okay," he said, stroking her hair.

She tucked her face into his neck and cried, letting all her fear and her relief pour out of her in a river of tears. Killian held her, rocking her back and forth, and hummed softly in her ear. Inside her, the baby kicked, and Emma started crying again, fresh relief washing over her as she realized _the baby was safe_.

"Hey," said a quiet voice from the doorway.

Emma lifted her head. It was Ian. He slipped into the room uncertainly.

"Hey, kid," Emma said, sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Ian asked.

"Yea. Whale just said I'm going to have to be on bed rest for a while," she said.

Ian sat on the bed on Emma's other side, and Emma reached for his hand, grasping it and squeezing his fingers tight.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" he asked. "From like the vending machine, or something?"

"No," she said. "I just want you to sit with us."

"Okay," Ian said, and he smiled.

Mary Margaret poked her head in the door.

"Can we come in?"

"Yea," Emma said.

Mary Margaret and David entered. Mary Margaret sat in Killian's recently-vacated chair, but David remained standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm fine, dad," Emma said. His lips were pressed into a firm line, and creases lined his brow.

 _Your poor grandpa_ , she thought to the baby.

And then she had an idea.

"Do you want to feel the baby kicking?" she asked.

David's eyebrows flew up nearly into his hairline. "Me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yea, you," Emma said.

Killian grinned and immediately moved aside, off the bed, so that David could stand near Emma.

David lifted his hand hesitantly. "Um..."

Rolling her eyes, Emma grabbed her dad's hand and pressed it against her belly. After a few seconds, the baby kicked, right into his grandpa's palm.

From the way her dad smiled, she knew he'd felt it. "See?" she said. "We're fine."

-

Emma stayed in the hospital overnight for observation. Her parents offered to take Ian with them, but Emma insisted he stay with her and Killian, where he belonged. Henry was safe with Regina, and Emma had a brief phone conversation with him to assure him that she was fine and that she'd see him tomorrow. Granny snuck them over some dinner, and after a meal of grilled cheeses and onion rings, Emma pulled the covers up to her chin and snuggled into them.

Ian and Killian took up the chairs next to the bed, and Ian summoned _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ from the house. He started reading aloud to them, and somewhere around the first task, Emma fell asleep.

She awoke hours later to a series of strange sounds, and sat up slowly in bed, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes and the fog from her brain.

Neither Killian nor Ian were there. The room was dark, except for the light coming from the bathroom, which was where the unmistakable noises of vomiting were coming from.

"Killian?" she called.

"In the bathroom, love," Killian called back. "It's Ian. He's sick. I think he has food poisoning."

"It was the pizza," came Ian's weak, miserable voice.

Emma yanked off the covers and levered herself out of bed. The floor was freezing cold against her bare feet, sending shocks up her legs and making her shiver. She walked to the bathroom slowly -- everything ached, and her stomach felt heavy.

"That's weird," she said, as she stepped into the light pouring out of the bathroom. "The pizza didn't make me sick."

It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light, and when they did, she saw Ian and Killian staring back at her, horrified.

"What? What is it" she asked.

Ian was kneeling next to the toilet, gripping it's sides, his face pale and sweaty. Killian was knelt next to him, his hand paused in the act of rubbing soothing circles on Ian's back.

"Emma..." Killian said, and trailed off, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

She saw where their eyes were looking, so she followed their gazes to her stomach.

" _No_ ," she said, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Her stomach was huge and round, like she'd swallowed a small planet. It was easily twice the size it had been before she'd fallen asleep.

"The pizza," Ian said. "Zelena dosed the pizza. That's why I'm sick, and you're..."

An alarm sounded, and everyone jumped, startled. Killian fumbled his phone from his pocket, and tapped furiously at the screen, silencing it.

"I didn't set an alarm," he said, shaking his head in confusion.

"I did," said Ian, and both Emma and Killian looked at him. He seemed to shrink beneath their gazes.

"Why?" Killian asked.

"Because it's midnight. It's March 1st."

_Oh, no._

_Oh, fuck._

He licked his lips, and said, "Today's my birthday."


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sort of one of those "how the hell did you get so long...?" chapters

Emma, Killian, and Ian stood in silence for a long moment, watching Emma's belly warily, like a bomb about to go off.

Killian spoke first. "I don't understand," he said slowly, "why aren't you -- "

"Popping out a baby right now? I have no idea!" Emma said. She could hear her voice growing high-pitched and shrill, feel panic welling up inside her. The baby was a tremendous weight low in her belly, pressing downwards on her pelvis. She should be going into labor right now.

So why wasn't the baby coming?

"We have to get Whale," she said. "We need to make sure everything's okay."

_We need to make sure the baby's okay._

Killian nodded sharply, but Ian was already darting past him. "I'm on it," he said, as he dodged around Emma and sprinted from the room.

Silence fell again. Killian was staring at her stomach, terror and excitement warring on his face, the same terror and excitement roiling in Emma's gut.

Their son was on his way, and Emma wanted him more than _anything_. She wanted to see his little face; she wanted to hold him in her arms; she wanted to hear every sigh, every coo, every happy gurgle, every hungry cry; she wanted to see Killian smiling, looking at their son with love in his eyes and one thought in his mind: _mine, ours_.

But Zelena's threat loomed over them -- over their _son_. And the moment he was born he'd be in danger.

"Let's get you back in bed, love," Killian said suddenly. He offered her his hand, his eyes not quite meeting hers, and walked her back to bed.

She moved slowly, feeling awkward and unbalanced. She cupped the bottom of her stomach, as if she could somehow hold the baby inside a little longer through sheer force of will. It took a great effort to lumber back onto the bed, and once Emma was settled, she shifted uncomfortably. The baby shifted too, and an elbow, a knee, and some toes were introduced to several of Emma's internal organs, making her groan and squeeze her eyes shut.

"Emma! What is it? Is he coming?"

Emma almost laughed at the mixture of panic and eagerness at his voice.

"No, it's just -- _ahhhhhhhhh_ \-- it's just a little crowded in there," she said. "I don't think he's realized yet that he's a little too big now to do somersaults -- or dance."

She looked accusingly at her stomach, hoping a mom glare might help, but the baby moved again, and this time, Emma _saw_ it. The thin fabric of her hospital gown rippled as beneath it a foot or a hand or a butt was pressed hard against her belly and dragged sideways.

Killian saw it too.

He gasped softly and leaned forward. His hand hovered over stomach, but before he could decide whether to touch her or not, Ian returned, dragging three nurses behind him. Killian straightened and took a step back, and the nurses filled the gap. They looked surprised to find Emma twice as pregnant as before, but they made no immediate comments.

"Where's Whale?" Emma asked.

The lead nurse smiled politely, and said evenly, "He's gone for the night, but we paged him. He'll be here soon. In the meantime, I was a midwife in the Enchanted Forest, so if you'd allow me..." she raised both her hands and held them over Emma's belly, and Emma nodded.

The nurse pressed gently but firmly on her stomach. Emma felt the baby squirming in response, clearly not enjoying being poked and prodded.

"His movements are strong," the nurse said, and she offered Emma another smile, this one encouraging. "That's good. He also seems to be presenting correctly -- "

"What does that mean?" Killian asked quickly.

"It means your baby is head down. When Dr. Whale gets here, he'll likely check you again and order some tests, but for now, it appears that -- aside from having gone from 22 weeks to 39 weeks in a matter of hours -- everything's perfectly normal."

"Thank you," Emma said.

"Of course. Is there anything we can get you?"

"Maybe just some water," Emma said.

The nurses nodded and left.

Emma sighed and leaned her head back against the pillows. "I guess Zelena messed up the potion," she mumbled. "Or maybe she didn't account for how strong the baby's magic is."

"Or perhaps when you used your own magic earlier to stop your going into labor you affected her spell somehow?" Killian offered.

"That's a possibility too," Emma said, and then, noticing the way Ian and Killian were hovering just out of reach of the bed, she snapped, "I'm not contagious, you know!"

The way they both jumped with the same startled looks on their faces was extremely satisfying, but Emma kept her smile on the inside and kept her glare in place on the outside.

Killian tugged on his earring. "Truthfully, I'm afraid to tempt the fates, love," he said a little weakly.

" _What_?" she asked.

"Right now, the babe seems content to stay in place," he said, eyes on her stomach, watching it warily once more. "I'm afraid if I get too close he'll decide it's time to come out."

Emma looked to Ian, to confirm how ludicrous Killian was being, but Ian just shrugged and said, "Dad's a sailor. He's superstitious. He won't even let you eat a banana on the ship. Or whistle."

"Yes, well, to whistle aboard a ship is to challenge the wind. You'd bring a storm down on top of your own head," Killian said, annoyed. "Every sailor knows that. It's common sense."

"And the bananas?" Emma asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Bad luck," Killian said ominously, and didn't offer any further explanation.

Emma shook her head and returned her attention to her stomach. It felt like a dream, like if she waited long enough, she'd wake up and find herself back to 22 weeks pregnant.

But she knew it wasn't a dream. She _knew_ it was real.

She ran her hands lightly over her stomach, from the top all the way down the curve to where she knew, inside, the baby's head nestled, and then back up.

"Can you feel him moving?" Killian asked. He had taken a few small, hesitant steps forward, but still stood slightly removed, near and yet very far. Emma could tell he wanted to approach, wanted to touch her, but was nervous.

"Yea. He's like a little octopus in there. I think he's trying to figure out why there's way less room all of a sudden," she said, and then a sobering thought hit her. "Do you think he realizes what just happened to him? Do you think he's afraid?"

Emma swallowed past a lump rising in her throat.

_If Zelena hurt him...I'll kill her._

Killian came forward then and settled down on the bed beside her. "The lad's tough," he said. "Just like his mother. He can handle it."

He laid his hand on her stomach, warming her skin. His touch was both an acknowledgement of reality and a reminder that they were in this together -- that they would _do_ this together, as always.

"Do you know how Zelena did it?" Killian asked quietly, still staring at her belly, running his hand back and forth over it. Emma began to relax, and so did the baby.

"She used the same spell I used on her," she said.

"Are you certain?"

"Yea," Emma said. "I don't know how she did it, but she did."

"She got it from Mr. Gold," Ian said. He was sitting in one of the chairs off to the side, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ open in his lap.

Killian twisted on the bed to fix Ian with a sharp stare. " _Gold_?" he asked, voice taking on a hard edge. "How?"

"Zelena went to the Underworld," Ian said, eyes darting guiltily between Emma and Killian. "She told me. When she had me in that cave."

"I don't understand..." Killian said slowly.

Ian turned to Emma. "Remember when I told you Zelena had an arrow with dad's blood on it?"

A memory rose in Emma's mind, and realization dawned.

"She used your blood to open the portal to the Underworld," she said to Killian. "And she got the spell from Gold."

"Because Gold has all the memories of the previous Dark Ones," Killian finished for her, closing his eyes. Then they flew open again, and he growled, " _What did Zelena give Gold in return_?"

"I don't think...I _can't_..." Ian said.

" _Ian_ ," Killian pressed.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut and sunk low in his chair. He took _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,_ opened it, and pressed the book over his face. "I can't tell you. Please don't ask me," he said, voice muffled by the pages.

"Killian," Emma said softly, drawing Killian's attention, drawing him out of his dark thoughts and back into the room with her, where he sat, one hand pressed against her stomach, over their son.

" _It doesn't matter_ ," she said, and laid both her hands over his. He blinked, and the storm cleared from his expression. "Whatever Gold's up to, we can't do anything about it right now."

"You're right, love, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, brow furrowed, jaw set in determination. "What matters now is you and the babe. We need to make sure you're both safe."

_Safe._

It seemed that whenever they believed they were safe, disaster struck.

"We should call your parents," Killian suggested.

Emma shook her head. "Not yet," she said. "I'm not ready to have everyone staring at me. We'll call them in a few hours."

"Are you certain? Do we have time?"

"Hey, kid," Emma said. "What time were you born?"

Ian grinned. "You always said I was born just in time for dinner."

Killian grinned too. "Why am I not surprised? Any special requests for your first meal?"

Ian opened his mouth, but then Emma said, "Milk," and his amusement visibly withered as his eyes dropped to her chest and then quickly away.

"I don't -- _can we not..._?" he huffed, ears turning bright red.

"My apologies, lad," Killian said, and Emma could tell from his voice that he was struggling to stifle his laughter. "That was my fault. I...I set that one up."

Ian just shook his head and stared into a corner, lips pressed together firmly in a thin line.

 _Poor kid_. _The deepest scars he'll leave here with will probably be the mental ones._

"How about you keep reading Harry Potter to us?" Emma asked.

Reluctantly, Ian opened the book up and started reading aloud.

-

They sat gathered together, savoring the last bit of quiet they'd likely have for a very long time.

Ian read to them for a while, until he was so tired he kept losing his place and both Emma and Killian told him to get some sleep. He scooted his chair close to the bed, rested his crossed arms on the mattress, laid his head atop them, and fell asleep. Killian covered his shoulders with an extra blanket, and then returned to the bed to lay on his side next to Emma, his head resting on her breast, singing softly to the baby.

Emma must have fallen asleep as well, because one moment she was listening to Killian's voice, and the next Ian was saying, "Hey, if I'm upside down in there right now, does that mean you're technically rubbing my butt?"

Emma opened her eyes and blinked around rapidly. The bedside lamp was off, and instead the room was filled with the soft golden glow of dawn. Her hands were at the top of her belly, and she had unconsciously been rubbing circles there, apparently while she slept.

Killian chuckled beside her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good morning, love," he said.

"How long was I asleep for?" she asked.

"Four hours," he answered, and when her eyes flew wide in panic, he added, "I already called your parents and Regina. They'll be here shortly."

"What about Whale? Did he ever show up?"

"Aye, but you were sleeping so I asked him to come back later. I figured since our boy won't be here until the evening that you could both afford a few more hours rest."

"Thanks," she said, and settled back against the pillows again.

"Are you hungry?" Killian said.

" _Yes_ ," Emma said. The only part of her belly that didn't feel full to bursting right now was the part where food was supposed to go.

"I'll go see if the cafeteria's open," Killian said. He slid from the bed and started walking towards the door. "And you, lad? Wait, no, I don't even need to ask. I already know the answer."

"PopTarts!" Ian called after Killian, grinning.

"In your dreams, boy."

-

Killian had been gone for ten minutes when Regina and Henry arrived. Regina stopped when she saw Emma's stomach, then narrowed her eyes and scowled.

"How did _that_ happen?"

"So, this one time, in Camelot, Killian and I -- " Emma said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ian smirk at her without taking his attention off his book.

But Regina cut her off. "How did Zelena get the spell to speed up your pregnancy? _You_ said that was impossible."

"It doesn't matter," Emma said flatly. "She got it."

Regina crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced around the room once and asked, "Where's Killian?"

"Beating up a vending machine somewhere," Ian said. Regina threw him a glare, which he steadfastly ignored.

Henry took a step forward, towards Emma. "Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm alright, kid," Emma said, smiling.

"Your brother's just anxious to get out and meet everyone," Killian said, striding into the room. He stopped at Henry's side and slung an arm over his shoulder. "Oh, I almost forgot," Killian added, and dug a package of PopTarts from his jacket pocket and tossed it to Ian, who caught it. "Happy birthday."

Grinning, Ian ripped open the wrapper and stuck half the first PopTart into his mouth, and offered the second to Henry. Henry took it and then sat in the chair next to him.

"Today's your birthday?" he asked Ian in a low voice.

Ian nodded.

"I didn't get you anything, I'm sorry."

They both started giggling.

Killian rounded the bed and handed Emma a PopTart as well.

"Cafeteria's not open yet, love, my apologies," he said.

"Nope, that's fine," Emma said, opening her PopTart and taking a bite. "This is perfect."

"What about grandma and grandpa -- " Ian started.

"Here," David said, stumbling into the room breathlessly. "We're here."

Mary Margaret gasped when she saw Emma. David just stared.

"Yea," Emma agreed, around a mouthful of s'mores PopTart.

"Emma, what happened?" Mary Margaret asked as she drew nearer. David was at her shoulder, following cautiously. He reminded Emma of Killian and Ian earlier: stricken with fear _for_ her, afraid to approach.

"Zelena put a potion in the pizza," Ian said, and then his mouth dropped open. "Wait, I ate it too. You don't think...what if _I'm_ pregnant now, too?"

Emma snorted, but Regina and Emma's parents looked even more confused, so Emma was forced to explain.

When she had finished, Regina asked, "What about your magic?"

"I don't know," Emma said seriously. "I haven't tried it yet."

She closed her eyes and called up her magic. The fire inside her flared, but so did the baby's, and Emma immediately let go. She saw the threads of both her and the baby's magic knotted together in one enormous, snarled mess. She couldn't see a way to use hers without simultaneously drawing on the baby's.

She opened her eyes to find everyone watching her anxiously. "My magic's pretty tangled up with the baby's," she admitted. "Way more than before. It's going to take me some time to figure it out."

"Well, don't wait too long," Regina said acidly. "Zelena's bound to show up soon - ""

Ian went still. "She's here."

Everyone froze.

"Zelena's _here_?" Killian asked.

Ian was staring into space, eyebrows drawn down. "She's outside. She's testing the protection spell."

_It's not safe here._

The thought surfaced in Emma's brain out of nowhere. It felt strange and unpleasant, like someone with an oily voice and hot breath whispering it in her ear. It made her shiver with revulsion.

_It's not safe here. We need to leave._

Emma shook the thought away. Her parents, the boys, and Regina were rushing to the window. She started to heave herself out of bed, but Killian blocked her.

"No, love," he said. "Stay here."

His hand was on her stomach protectively. Emma grabbed his wrist and forearm, holding him there. His fingertips tightened briefly, pressing into her skin.

"I don't see her," Mary Margaret said, peering through the blinds.

"There's no one there," David said.

"She's there," Ian said softly. "I can feel her."

Emma could feel it now too. Someone -- _Zelena_ \-- was bombarding the protection spell, heaving against it with all their might.

_It's not safe here._

The same thought as before, leaking through the wall she'd put around it.

_We need to leave._

_No_ , Emma thought back, angrily, _the protection spell will hold_.

Regina stepped back from the window. "I doubt she'd put herself out in the open. She's probably cast a spell of invisibility."

 _Invisibility_.

At the farm, that feeling of being watched, of someone standing right behind her...it had been Zelena.

_It's not safe here._

Emma gritted her teeth. She felt Killian go rigid.

"What are we going to do?" David asked. "Is she just going to...wait?" He cast a glance over his shoulder at Emma, and Emma saw the fear in his eyes. He'd had to watch helplessly as Zelena stole his newborn son, and now he was facing down the possibility of watching it again, only with his grandson.

"Do you think she knows her spell didn't work and Emma hasn't had the baby yet?" Mary Margaret asked.

 _It's not safe here. We need to leave_.

And then that thought bubbled to the surface and spilled from Emma's lips. "It's not safe here. We need to leave," she said. Killian looked at her in surprise, and Emma insisted, "We need to get out of Storybrooke."

"I -- yes, I agree," Killian said, but he looked bewildered as if uncertain _why_ he agreed.

The others looked just as startled to hear Emma say those words as Emma felt about saying them.

Then, suddenly, it started to make sense.

It started to make _a lot_ of sense.

"I can't use my magic now, and once the baby's born, I'm going to be too weak to protect him," she said firmly.

" _We_ can protect you," David said, and his hand jerked slightly -- reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

"No, you can't," Emma said, and she felt a stab of guilt at the way her parents' faces fell, but she plowed on. "I know you _want_ to protect us, but you can't. Zelena's weakness is light magic, and that's the only thing that's going to stop her -- "

"I can do it," Ian said.

" _No_ ," Emma and Killian said together.

"You're not putting herself in harm's way," Killian said fiercely. " _None_ of you are. Not if there's another option."

David and Mary Margaret were clearly not ready to back down, but Regina cut in.

"I agree," she said. " Zelena's always found a way to get what she wants -- _always_. We can't guarantee the baby's safety, once he's born. Our best option is for Emma and the baby to go somewhere Zelena can't touch them."

Emma reached her hand out, and Killian took it without looking and squeezed tightly. David and Mary Margaret exchanged a long look, some sort of silent communication clearly passing between them, and then they both nodded. Henry was sitting passively, watching, waiting, and Ian -- Ian was worried. His blue eyes were fixed on Emma and Killian, looking at them in a way Emma had never seen before -- with doubt.

_Something's wrong, something's wrong._

But then that other, horrible thought surfaced, and drowned out Emma's hesitation: _It's not safe here. We need to leave._

The baby -- they needed to keep the baby safe, and leaving was the only way.

_Right?_

"So, what are you two proposing?" Regina asked, arching one eyebrow. "You _do_ have a plan, correct?"

A plan popped immediately into Emma's head, as if it had been waiting there the entire time.

"We're going to take the Jolly Roger," she said, "and we're going to sail to Boston."

-

Emma laid out her plan. Killian chipped in, almost as if they'd discussed it beforehand.

Zelena was watching the hospital, so they'd remain inside and keep her focus there. Meanwhile, Will, Marco, and Leroy would prepare the Jolly Roger to set sail, while Belle and Ashley would go to Emma and Killian's house and pack a few bags for them -- mostly with things for the baby. Ashley could provide anything they didn't already have but needed.

When everything was ready, Regina would poof Emma, Killian, Ian, and Henry directly to the ship, and Zelena would never know until it was too late.

When Emma and Killian had finished talking, Mary Margaret sat on the edge of Emma's bed, and said delicately, "Emma, not that your father and I aren't relieved that you're going to be safe, but...what changed your mind?"

"I'm not going to risk letting Zelena take the baby. I can't do that to him."

Emma thought of the baby in her belly, completely innocent, completely unaware of the danger that awaited him. If Zelena even _touched_ him...

As if sensing her thoughts, Killian nodded stiffly in agreement.

"Ok," David said. "I think this is a good idea. We can handle Zelena while you're gone -- "

"I don't want you to _handle_ her," Emma said. "I want you guys to just stay safe until I get back."

"But -- "

"Let me be clear," Emma said. "I'm not running away. I'm just doing what I have to do to make sure my son is safe. I'm coming back, and when I do I'm going to make sure Zelena can't harm me or anyone I love ever again."

Silence followed her statement and everyone fell still.

And then Regina spoke. "Zelena's hurt _all_ of us," she said. "I still owe her for what she did to Robin. When you return, I'll stand at your side."

"And us too. You know that," Mary Margaret said.

"But if you want us to wait," David said, "we will. We can keep the town safe while you're gone."

"Thank you," Emma said.

"You don't need to thank us, Emma. You're not alone -- in anything," Mary Margaret said, glancing up at Killian. Then she slipped her hand into Emma's. "We'll always be here for you, whether that means battling flying monkeys or babysitting."

"Which one's less dangerous?" Killian mumbled.

David looked at Ian, who smirked at him, and then back at Emma and Killian. "Probably the monkeys," he said.

-

David and Mary Margaret went to try and scrounge everybody up a real breakfast from the cafeteria, and Regina left to find a private place to call Robin and bring him to speed.

Killian called Will and started walking him through how to prepare the ship, but within moments he grew so frustrated he stomped swiftly from the room, growling, " _Starboard_. No, the _right_ side. Yes, when facing the front. Have you honestly never been aboard a ship before? Where's Leroy? Put him on the phone."

Emma started to get  out of bed, but Henry and Ian were there in an instant, hands out, clearly unsure whether to help her up or hold her down.

"I'm going to pee all over this floor in a second if you two don't move," Emma said.

"Yikes, okay," Ian said, and gently took hold of one of her arms while Henry grasped the other. They levered her off the mattress and to her feet, and escorted her to the bathroom.

"If I get stuck I'll call you guys," she said, then shut the door in their faces and lumbered over to the toilet.

The baby had been asleep for awhile, but he was definitely awake now, and apparently testing the limits and capabilities of his confines.

"It's not a mosh pit in there, buddy. Calm down," she whispered to her stomach.

_And if you could stop head-butting my bladder for a second that'd be great._

When she left the bathroom, it was only to pace her room. Henry and Ian stood off to the side, not sitting down, watching.

"I'm alright, guys," she said, smiling at them over her shoulder. "I'm just trying to get the baby to go back to sleep. He's trying to escape."

"Do you want me to go get dad? He can sing to, um, me..."

" _We_ can sing," Henry suggested. "We're pretty good at The 12 Days of Christmas."

"Yea, especially the 'seven swans a swimming' part," Ian said, grinning.

"Uh, nope, that's okay. This is helping," Emma said, even as a tiny foot was thrust upwards, into her intestines.

For something to do while she waited for the baby to be lulled back to sleep, she wandered over to where her coat was folded neatly on a dresser in the corner, and took the enchanted cuff from the pocket. When she touched it, she saw that flash from the future again, with Zelena on her knees, and two Emmas and two Killians standing over her.

She frowned down at the cuff as she paced. Shouldn't that vision be changing? Or, at this point in time, was it still a possibility? There was still the risk of Zelena figuring out their plan an attacking before they had a chance to escape, and if that happened, would Emma be able to get the cuff on her? She'd have to be within arm's reach of Zelena, and if Zelena was that close to her...

She had a sudden thought. "Can you use magic to get the cuff on someone?"

" _You_ can," Ian said simply.

"I don't think so, kid. Not today, at least."

"Try," Ian insisted. "Try to get it on me right now."

Emma went back to the bed and sat on its edge, facing Ian and Henry in their chairs. She put the cuff on the bedside table, took a deep breath, and tapped into her magic. She felt the baby's magic in the mix, but she held on, and, concentrating hard on the cuff, waved her hand.

Nothing happened.

"Crap," she said, then waved her hand again, with the same result.

"Don't give up," Ian said. "Just because you didn't do it the first time doesn't mean you can't do it at all."

"That sounds like something your dad would say," Emma said dryly.

"That's something _you_ say," Ian said. "Like, all the time."

"Well, in that case, I guess I _can't_ give up, then, huh?" she said.

"Nope," Ian answered, and both he and Henry grinned at her.

"Alright," Emma said, resigned, and furrowed her brow at the cuff again.

She carefully drew out her magic -- a tiny thread of it, pulled from the tangle of her and the baby's magic -- and felt it connect with the cuff. She _knew_ she could move it, except that she knew the only place she wanted it to go -- Ian's wrist -- was the only place it _wouldn't_ go.

Killian walked in then, took one look at her, then followed her glower to the cuff, and said, "Really? Right now? After what happened?"

"What?" Emma asked innocently, eyes wide.

Emma saw his anger flare, and then saw him quickly smother it. He stood staring hard at her for a moment until he had himself under control again, then he relaxed his stance, unclenched his fists, crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow.

"What are you two trying to do?" he asked.

"Mom's trying to use magic to get the cuff on me," Ian said.

"Practicing for Zelena?"

"Yea," Emma said. "I want to be able to get the cuff on her before she gets too close."

Killian nodded tightly, and Emma turned her attention back to the cuff. After a few more minutes of straining, however, she collapsed back onto the pillows.

"I don't know," she said heavily. "I don't think it's possible. Ian, I love you, but the way you're messing with my magic right now...I'm gonna need you to stop."

"You can do it. I've _seen_ you do it," Ian said.

"Try one more time, Swan," Killian said. "Don't give up."

Killian's encouragement made her sit up again and square her shoulders.

 _You can do this_ , she told herself. _You have to do this_.

She touched the cuff with her magic again, but then, realizing something, she looked up at Ian. "This might sound weird, kid, but is the cuff resisting...or are you?"

Ian blinked in surprise, then stared thoughtfully off to the side for a moment before he said, "Um, me, I think -- but not on purpose. It's just my magic. It _knows_ what the cuff does and it doesn't like it. You have to kinda like..." he screwed his face up, thinking, "You have to sort of punch my magic in the face and then put the cuff on me while its stunned."

Emma laughed "That actually makes perfect sense."

Ian grinned. Killian was looking at him like he was proud but wasn't sure if he should also laugh or not, then he turned to Emma and said, "Go ahead, Swan. Use your magic to punch our son's magic in the face."

Emma's eyes narrowed as she concentrated on the cuff once more. She kept one thread of magic on it, then extended another. This one she made as thick as a rope -- one of the big ones thick as a man's wrist she'd seen on the Jolly Roger -- and reeled it out slowly. When she felt it brush up against Ian's, she _pushed_ , at the same time she told the cuff to _move_.

Ian let out a little huff of breath, and then jerked his arm in surprise. The cuff was on his wrist, and Emma couldn't feel his magic anymore. His entire face wrinkled in disgust. "Ew, get it off. It feels weird."

"Here, allow me," Killian said, gesturing with his hook. "Hold still."

Ian held out his wrist, and Killian carefully used his hook to pull the cuff off.

Ian massaged his wrist for a moment, then turned to Emma and said, "Ok, do it again," and grinned brightly.

Killian tossed Emma the cuff, and she tried again.

It was easier the second time.

-

It was nearly 10 o'clock when Will called and informed them everything was ready.

"Okay," Killian said into the phone, "now get out of there and get Belle and everyone else somewhere safe."

Emma stood up from the bed. Practicing with the enchanted cuff had given her a pretty good handle on her magic again, and she had used it to make her clothes bigger -- to accommodate her bigger belly -- so she didn't have to sail to Boston in her hospital gown.

Her parents stood as well and came over to hug her goodbye.

"Call us when you get there," Mary Margaret said.

"We will. Remember, stay -- "

"In the hospital. We know," David said. "Don't worry. We'll make sure Zelena doesn't realize you're gone." He joined the hug and cupped the back of her head, holding her tight against his chest. "Be safe," he said. "And say hi to my grandson for me."

"You can say hi to him yourself when you meet him," Emma said, and stepped back, out of her parents arms and into Killian's. His hook arm went around her waist, and the other he extended towards David. David clasped his hand hard and shook it, and they both nodded at each other.

"We'll be back soon," Killian said.

"See you then," David replied.

Regina was at Emma's shoulder. "Are you ready to do this?" she asked.

For a moment, Emma hesitated.

_We're running. This is running._

She looked to Killian, saw the same thought in his eyes, saw his indecision, but then a certainty rose up in her and overwhelmed her doubt.

_We're not safe here. We need to leave._

"Yea," Emma said.

"We're ready," Killian said. He shifted so he was holding her hand, and, on his other side, Ian grabbed his hook. Killian looked at Ian's fingers curled around the metal for a moment, then his own fingers tightened on Emma's. Emma took Henry's hand with her free hand, and Regina grabbed onto Henry.

"Hold on," she said.

Purple smoke bloomed around them, rising up from around their feet to swallow them whole. Emma felt immense pressure, like she was being squeezed on all sides. For a long moment, everything in Emma's vision was purple, and then the smoke cleared and the heaviness lifted, and they were standing on the docks.

"Quickly!" Killian said, and ushered her and the boys ahead of him, up the gangplank and onto the safety of the ship.

"Be careful," Regina said, and then she vanished again in another plume of purple smoke.

Killian immediately began barking orders, and Emma watched in fascination as Ian and Henry leapt to obey. Ian seemed to anticipate what Killian was going to say, and was always two steps in the right direction by the time the words left Killian's mouth. Henry wasn't as quick, but when Killian told him to do something, he knew exactly where to go.

In less than ten minutes the Jolly Roger was sailing away from the docks, headed towards the open ocean. Emma stood on the quarterdeck at the stern, hands resting lightly on the railing. She watched Storybrooke shrink in the distance.

_Are we really doing this?_

She took the enchanted cuff from her coat, and ran her fingers over it. She saw the same scene as before: Zelena attempting to pry the cuff off her wrist while Emma, Killian, and their doppelgangers watched...  

She shook her head to clear the image from her mind.

_How was that still possible? Shouldn't it be different?_

Before she could question herself too deeply, Killian stepped up next to her. He seemed agitated. His eyes were the same clear, bright blue as the sky and sharp as ever, but he was pale. The small scar on his cheek stood out lividly, as did the dark smudges beneath his eyes. Emma probably looked similar -- or _worse_.

"It will take us half an hour to reach the boundary," he said, and when Emma looked surprised, he spared her a glance and added, "Storybrooke's borders extend far out to sea. I imagine Regina did it to ensure the town couldn't be spotted from the water."

His gaze was fixed on Storybrooke, and there was a deep crease of worry between his eyebrows.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked.

_Tell me this doesn't feel right._

_Tell me we shouldn't be doing this._

_Tell me we need to go back._

Killian opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap and whirled around, putting his back to Storybrooke. He propped his elbows on the railing and leaned into it, then nodded his head towards where Ian and Henry were steering the ship. There was pride in his expression, but also sadness.

"This isn't exactly how I envisioned sailing with our son for the first time," he said, his eyes on Ian and Henry. They stood at the helm, straight-backed and shoulder to shoulder, their hair -- gold and chestnut -- gleaming in the sun.

Emma knew that, if she wanted to, she could touch the ship's wheel and see the future -- but she didn't need to. She could imagine it perfectly: Killian with Ian -- barely a year old -- in his arms, carrying him around the ship, showing him all the parts, letting him touch the mast, the sail, the wheel; Ian as a toddler, trying to climb the rigging while Killian stood behind him, ready to snatch him up if he fell or if he got too high.

"There will be another first time," Emma said softly, laying her hand on Killian's arm.

"True," he sighed, but Emma could tell he wasn't satisfied. He pushed himself back to a standing position, and offered her his hand. With one last look at Storybrooke, Emma followed Killian to the helm.

Ian and Henry stepped aside so Killian could take the wheel. Killian pulled his compass from his pocket, eyed it for a moment, made on small adjustment to the wheel's position, then closed the compass with a snap an stuffed it back into his coat.

"I'm going to go check an see what Belle and Ashley brought," Emma said.

"Can you make it down all those stairs, love?" Killian asked.

"I'll be fine," Emma said.

"Mom, I'll go -- " Henry started.

"I'll be _fine_ ," Emma insisted, and headed towards the hatch.

The stairs were a struggle, but she made it safely to the bottom and into the Captain's Quarters. There were two suitcases in the corner, packed tight with clothes for her, Killian, the boys, and the baby. There was a large diaper bag, filled with socks and hats, blankets, bottles, and pacifiers. There was a box of diapers -- Emma and Killian hadn't bought any yet, so Ashley and Belle must have done it for them -- and a carrier which Emma assumed Ashley must have provided. Emma wished that, somehow, they could have brought the baby's crib with them, but that would have to wait until they returned.

Henry was waiting to help her out of the hatch, and Emma stepped back onto the quarterdeck to hear Killian say to Ian, "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?" Ian responded.

"You told me your father once made you clean his entire ship."

Ian ducked his head, hiding a blush. "Ah, yea, well I sorta didn't think you were ever going to know who I was..."

"Even so, I'd still like to know what you did to earn _that_ particular punishment."

"Um..."

"Take your time. I've got all day," Killian said, and made a show of settling down more comfortably.

"I...I tried taking the ship out for a joy ride," Ian said quickly, and then seemed to brace himself.

Killian stared, not quite comprehending. "You took the Jolly Roger out?"

"Yes."

 "On your own?"

"Yes. You were pretty upset. You said I could have wrecked her." Ian sounded as if he was apologizing all over again.

"I'm surprised you didn't," Killian said, and Emma could hear the affront in his voice.

"Yea, well, it was a close call. You said I didn't appreciate her, and I needed to make it up to her. So you had me scrub her top to bottom."

Emma snorted. That sounded _exactly_ like Killian.

"How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Ah, so this was fairly recently, then?"

Their conversation faded from Emma's ears. Something was bugging her. She went to the railing. She couldn't see Storybrooke, but she knew where it was, hidden out of sight around a bend in the land.

_We're leaving. We're leaving._

"We're almost at the border, love," Killian called back to her.

 _We shouldn't be leaving_.

"Alright, we're here."

_We can't leave!_

Emma spun around, reaching a hand out towards Killian. "Wait!"

Ian looked at her, saw her panic, and yelled, "Dad, _no_ \-- !"

Emma felt a wave like cold water pass over her as they crossed the border. She felt her magic snuffed out, and at the same time, Killian cried out -- a pitiful sound that drove a spike of pure agony through Emma. He turned to her, horror in his eyes, one hand clutching his chest.

 _He has no heart!_ she screamed inside her head.

Killian took two shambling steps towards her, and then collapsed in a heap.

Emma sprinted to his side, shouting, "Turn the ship around!" and dropped to her knees next to him. She took him by the shoulders and rolled him onto his back. His body was limp, his head lolled loosely to the side.

"Killian! Killian, wake up!" she said.

But she knew he couldn't hear her.

She gripped his jacket lapels in two tightly clenched fists. "Come back to me," she whispered, her voice cracking as hot tears sprang into her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. " _Come back to me._ "

Emma needed him. The baby -- _Ian_ \-- needed him.

Emma didn't want to raise their son alone.

"Mom," said Henry's voice from somewhere above her. "Is he -- ?"

"HOLD ON!" Ian bellowed, and the deck tilted suddenly and violently sideways. Emma slid towards the railing, clutching Killian tight, dragging him with her. For a brief, terrifying second Emma thought they would crash into the railing and she would be crushed, and then the deck tilted the other way, evening out -- they were turned back around, racing towards home.

"C'mon! C'mon!" Ian was shouting. Emma could see his knuckles were white where they gripped the wheel. Henry had jumped down to the main deck to grab hold of a rope securing the mast that had sprung loose, and stood holding it tight, braced with all his weight thrown backwards, holding it in place.

It took less than a minute to reach the border again, but to Emma it seemed like years. She felt that ripple pass over her again, returning her magic, and then Killian gasped and his eyes flew open. His hand scrabbled at her arm and he gripped it hard.

" _Emma, what did we do_?" he asked hoarsely.

"I -- I don't know," she stuttered. "I don't -- "

She squeezed her eyes shut.

_It wasn't safe._

_We needed to leave._

She was breathing hard, and the sound of her own racing heart was a rapid hammering in her ears...

_Her heart._

_Killian's heart._

Emma opened her eyes and put her hand on her chest, over her heart, and her gaze fell to Killian's chest.

"You don't think...?" Killian started, but Emma cut him off with a nod.

That voice that had whispered to her inside her own head...it hadn't been Emma's voice: it had been Zelena's.

_Fuck._

"We need to get back," Emma said. "Whatever Zelena wanted -- she _knew_ we wouldn't be gone long -- "

"Whatever Zelena wanted she likely already has," Killian growled, and he scrambled to his feet, pulling Emma up after him.

"Mom, dad" Ian called, his voice trembling. "We have a problem." He turned to them, eyes wide, scared. "I can't feel the protection spells anymore. They're gone."

" _Rowan_ ," Killian said quickly. "She wanted the protection spells down so she could get Rowan."

Emma knew he was right.

Emma fumbled her phone out of her pocket, intending to call Regina, only to find that Regina was calling _her_. With shaking hands she accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

"Zelena took Rowan. We need you. Get back here _now_!"

"We're coming," Emma said, and hung up.

"Is it Rowan?" Killian asked.

Emma nodded. "Zelena took her. We have to -- "

Emma felt Ian gathering his magic, and knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

"No, don't!" she screamed, but it was too late.

" _I have to_ ," he snarled, blue eyes glinting ferociously, and then he disappeared in a cloud of white smoke.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already, please, please, PLEASE go read The Red Haired Jones (http://archiveofourown.org/works/9826172/chapters/22065131) written by TheMusicalPirate. It fits into the I belong to you, you belong to me universe and takes place about 6 years in the future. There's a lot of good tension, a lot of fantastic Emma-and-Killian moments, and plenty of Ian being the cutest little cutie that ever existed!!!!!
> 
> And now...LET US BEGIN

_13 years in the future_

"So," Enzo said, in that casual tone that told Ian he was doomed. "When are you going to ask Rowan to the Spring Formal?"

"When I bloody well _feel_ like it," Ian growled.

Enzo shrugged. "I'm just saying, if you're _going_ to, you should do it soon. It's next weekend."

Ian didn't reply, he just hiked his backpack higher up on his shoulders and stared resolutely ahead.

"You know Philip's been asking her too, right?"

The toe of Ian's sneaker hit a crack in the sidewalk and he stumbled, almost falling.

" _What_?" he hissed.

"Yea."

"What did she say? Did she say yes?"

Enzo just looked at him, that placid, brown-eyed stare that made Ian want to strangle him, best friend or not.

"Does she...does she _like_ Philip?"

Enzo shrugged again. "What would you do if she went to the dance with him?"

"Cry," Ian huffed.

"Well, if you can't go with Rowan, you can go with my sister."

" _No_ ," Ian said, and shoved Enzo off the sidewalk and into the grass. "She's like...she's like _my_ sister too. Besides, I'm pretty sure she hates me."

Enzo fell back into step beside him, grinning. "She does hate you a little bit, yea."

" _See_? _And_ she's Rowan's best friend, and it's like...a breach of etiquette to ask your crush's best friend out, so I couldn't take her to the dance even if I wanted to because -- _what the fuck is that_?"

They both stopped. Ahead of them, rising over the treetops to the west, was a pillar of orange light.

"We should get to The Crow's Nest," Enzo said.

"Yea..." Ian said, but something didn't feel right. He'd seen that beacon before. He'd _been_ seeing it -- in his dreams.

He stared at it, and for a moment it grew dazzlingly bright, filling his vision and nearly blinding him, and inside his head he saw an image of his parents in a barn. They were facing down a woman with sickly green skin and a boy in armor with a sword. The boy lunged, his sword slicing, and --

The light faded and his vision went back to normal. He blinked rapidly and shook his head. He knew where the light was -- _what_ it was. He knew where his parents were. And he knew something bad was about to happen to them.

"Ian? Hey, what is it? What's that light?"

"I gotta go," Ian said, and he broke into a run.

"Ian! Where are you going?" Enzo called after him, but Ian didn't answer, he just ran.

-

Emma and Killian were crouched down behind a bush at the edge of the woods, watching the farm, waiting. The distance from the barn and the angle made it impossible to see inside, but the time portal was still active, so they knew Zelena hadn't gone through yet.

They'd left Henry back in town, both to gather everyone and delay them. Whatever was about to happen, Emma didn't think anyone else was supposed to be here.

Killian's hand found hers. He lifted it to his lips, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

"It'll be alright, love."

Emma frowned tightly. "What if something goes wrong? What if somehow things don't happen the way they did for us, and he gets hurt, or killed, or -- "

" _Emma_ ," he said, bringing her babbling to a halt.

She turned to him, searched his eyes, looking for the same fear and uncertainty she felt, but all she saw was calm resolve.

"How are you not scared right now?" she asked, desperately.

"I am, Emma. Of course I'm scared. But I know Ian. And I know us -- the us we are now, and the us we were then. Everything will be fine."

"But Ian -- "

"I know, love, I know," he said soothingly, and he pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. "It's going to be difficult for him, and I...I would spare him that pain, if I could. But I can't. He has to do this."

Emma sighed miserably into his jacket.

"He won't be alone," Killian continued. "He has us."

"He's going to be different when he comes back," she mumbled. She closed her eyes and pictured his face: he had Killian's eyes, his mouth, lips, and smirk, but he had Emma's gold hair, her freckles, and her smile. He was their light, and she couldn't stand the thought of the pain and the darkness he was hurtling towards, pain and darkness they couldn't stop.

"Aye, he'll change," Killian agreed. "But we didn't miss it. We were there. We helped him grow."

Emma smiled. "And he helped us grow."

"Aye, he did. He gave me hope, Emma."

"Me too," she said. Her fear had subsided, and some of Killian's calm had leaked through and settled inside her. She leaned back so she could see Killian's eyes, and asked, "Are you excited to see our past selves?"

"Yes," he said, and grinned.

Emma knew that grin. She snorted. "I know _exactly_ why you're excited to meet our past selves, Killian; so you can stop trying to hide that smirk."

He didn't even have the good grace to look ashamed. If anything, his smirk only grew wider. He tugged on his earring, and said, "I was thinking...I know last time -- when we were them -- we didn't have a chance to, well, I was thinking perhaps we could take a moment to -- "

" _No_."

"But, _Emma_ \-- "

"Don't 'but Emma' me," she said, rolling her eyes. "We are _not_ having a foursome with our past selves."

"Not a _foursome_. Swan," he said, as if she was being ridiculous. "A _three_ some. Me and the two of you."

Emma arched one eyebrow. "You don't want your younger self there? Afraid you won't be able to keep up?"

Killian spluttered in mock outrage, but instead of disputing her claim, he huffed, turned his head away, and asked, "How much longer, do you think?"

"I don't know, how long does it take to run from -- _he's here_."

Emma could see Ian's blonde hair, coming up the road.

Killian watched their son jogging towards the farm for a moment, and then sighed. "When all this is over, we're going to have to have a serious discussion about his recklessness."

"Agreed," Emma said.

His hand found hers again and gripped tightly.

"Ready, Swan?"

Emma nodded.

Resting against the front wall of the barn, just outside the door, were several bales of hay. Emma concentrated on two and extended several threads of magic like puppet strings out towards them. When her magic touched the bales, they leapt up and morphed into doppelgangers of herself and Killian. The threads of magic faded and became invisible.

"Here we go," she said.

* * *

_Now_

Ian's feet hit the soggy grass hard, jarring his knees and sending him spilling backwards onto his ass in the mud.

He blinked around. He'd made it to the farm. The sky was a deep, stormy gray here, and it was raining steadily. He was sitting in a puddle about twenty feet away from the barrier Zelena had placed around the farm.

_Not bad for my first time._

A group of people stood at the barrier, all turned around and staring at him. His grandparents were there, along with Robin and Regina, a handful of the Merry Men, Lancelot, and Mordred. Everyone was armed and tense-looking.

His grandpa was the first to react. He jogged over and helped Ian back to his feet, then asked, "Where're Emma and Killian?"

"They'll be here in a second," Ian said.

"Why are you here alone? Why didn't they come with you?" Mary Margaret asked.

Ian didn't answer, he just shook his head and strode directly to the barrier. Regina stepped aside to make room for him.

"I've tried everything," she said. "The barrier's too strong for my magic."

Ian didn't miss the plea in her voice, and it made him feel strange. Regina may be prickly and hard to get along with, but she loved Rowan and had raised her like her own daughter, and she didn't deserve to have her ripped away. And neither did Robin. Roland and Rowan were _everything_ to Robin -- Ian couldn't imagine a future for him that excluded his daughter.

He looked across the empty field to the barn. Zelena was in there, waiting.

Suddenly, the urgency that had propelled Ian here was gone, and guilt crept in.

 _Sometimes,_ he told himself _, you can be a real idiot._

He'd run off and left his own parents behind. They'd be scared and upset, especially his mom. All she wanted was to keep him safe, and he'd just done the least safe thing he possibly could have.

But he could make it up to her. He could take the barrier down, so she didn't have to, so she could save her magic to protect the baby.

"I have an idea," he said. "But everyone needs to move back. Like, way back."

Looks were exchanged, but then everyone began backing away. He heard their footsteps shuffling across the grass, squelching in the mud.

"What are you going to do?" Regina asked.

"Something stupid," he said.

He closed his eyes and delved into his magic. In his mind, it was like thrusting both his hands elbow-deep into ice cold river water and trying to gather enough of it in his palms to quench a bottomless thirst. When he opened his eyes he was holding a deep crimson flame -- larger and stronger than he'd ever made it before -- cupped between his hands.

Regina had told him it was an old magic -- arcane magic -- but it came from Ian, so he willed it to be something else.

 _You're my magic_ , he told it. _You're light magic_.

"What is that?" Regina asked, but Ian ignored her.

He thought about Zelena, in the barn with Rowan. He thought about the torch that had turned into a flaming serpent and tried to strangle his dad. He thought about Zelena ripping out his dad's heart, and then, in the cave, squeezing it to hurt both his parents. He thought about what Zelena wanted to do to his mom now, to the baby she was carrying, to _him_ \--

The fire in his palm turned black.

"What -- _no_! Don't you dare!" Regina yelled.

 _You're light magic_ , he reminded the black fire in his palm, then he took it and pressed it into the barrier.

-

Killian stared at the spot Ian had just disappeared from -- swallowed by a cloud of gray-white smoke and then vanished -- then he raised his eyes to the west. In the distance, where Killian knew the farm lay, waiting for them, dark clouds were gathering.

Henry bounded up the steps and onto the quarter deck. "We have to go help him!" he said breathlessly.

Emma tuned to Killian."I'm going to stop the ship,"

" _What_?" Killian asked.

" _I said_ I'm going to stop the ship," she said, and her glare matched Ian's, just before he'd disappeared. "Hold onto something."

Killian saw Henry dart to the side and grab hold of the railing with both hands, but before Killian could do the same, the ship shuddered to a halt. It felt like pressing the brake on the car too hard and too fast. The three of them were thrown forward. Henry lost his footing and fell to his knees, but he managed to hang on enough to keep from being thrown down to the main deck. Killian swung his arm back and snagged his hook around some ropes just in time to stop himself from toppling over. He reached for Emma with his other hand and grabbed her elbow, keeping her on her feet.

Water reared up behind the stern in a tidal wave and crashed over the railing, flooding the deck and soaking them from the waist down. Henry, already on his knees, went under completely, and when the water had  passed over him he sat there on his hands and knees, dripping and coughing.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked, pulling out of Killian's grip and running to Henry's side.

"I'm okay, mom," Henry said. He pushed her hands away and struggled to his feet, tossing his head to get the wet hair out of his eyes.

"Emma, are _you_ okay?" Killian asked. He put his hand on her belly. He couldn't feel any movement beneath his fingers.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Emma said. She took both her hands and pressed them hard over Killian's, and he felt a tiny elbow butt up against his palm. The little knot of fear inside him eased ever so slightly. "Sorry that was a little crazy. I didn't think that through."

"It's fine," Killian reassured her. "We're all okay. Right?" He looked to Henry for confirmation, and Henry nodded.

Emma took a deep breath. "Ok. Let's go get Rowan back," she said. "Before Ian gets himself killed."

She took Henry's hand, and held her other one out to Killian.

Killian took it. "One of these days we're going to stop chasing after that boy," he said.

"We've just gotten started chasing after that boy," Emma said. And Killian knew she was right.

Another cloud of gray-white smoke appeared and rose up to wrap tightly around them. There was pressure, and then they were at the farm, and the farm was on fire.

 _Wait, no_ \--

Killian blinked, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

A dome of black fire covered the entire farm. The air shimmered with heat. Emma and Henry both threw up their arms to cover their faces. Killian stepped in front of them and turned his back, shielding them from the worst of it.

"Mom, what is that?" Henry yelled over the roar of the flames.

"I don't know -- "

"Is it Zelena?"

"No, it's -- "

"It's Ian," Killian said. He recognized the black fire.

Emma pulled her head up to stare at him incredulously, and then she was pushing past him and rushing towards the dome. Killian spun and chased after her.

He saw others there, crouched down with their backs to the flames and their coats up over their heads, or stooped behind cars for cover...and then he saw Ian. He was standing within arm's reach of the dome, seemingly unaffected by his proximity to the fire.

Emma grabbed Killian's arm as they ran. "Killian," she panted. "It's working! The fire's eating Zelena's magic. It's taking down the barrier!"

Suddenly, the fire was shrinking, dissolving. and by the time they reached Ian, it was gone. The heat disappeared, and Killian's lungs were flooded with fresh air, and the rain felt icy on his flushed cheeks.

Ian turned to them. His hair was blown back off is forehead and he looked startled.

"I kind of didn't think that would work," he said weakly, his voice a little high-pitched.

Killian wanted to shake him, but he also wanted to hug him tightly and never let him go. He settled for something in between, and just took the boy by the shoulders and held him firmly.

"Don't you _ever_ go running off on your own like that again," he said. "Do you understand?"

Ian dropped his eyes to Killian's boots.

"I know, I'm sorry."

Killian scowled at him a moment longer, then softened his tone. "When all this is over, we're going to have a very serious discussion about your recklessness."

"Okay," Ian nodded.

Killian pulled him against his chest. Ian's arms went around him and squeezed tight. He kissed the top of the boy's head, and whispered, "Please stop running off on your own. I can't watch you get hurt again."

Emma was there, her hand on the back of Ian's neck. "You scared us, kid."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Regina's voice cut in, drawing them harshly back to reality. "Are you three finished?" 

Emma looked at her, sharply at first, and then worry stole into her eyes, and her gaze drifted off to the barn. Killian saw her go completely still.

"Emma, love, what is it?"

Without taking her eyes off the barn, she said, "This is a lot like my vision."

"It's different though," Ian said. "It wasn't raining."

Emma nodded, but the worry didn't leave her eyes.

David and Mary Margaret joined them.

"We need a plan," David said.

"The plan is we get in there and we get Rowan back," Regina said acidly.

Lancelot appeared at David's shoulder. "We can't all run through the front doors at once. We need to fan out and take the barn from all sides."

"Lance is right," David said, and behind him, Mary Margaret, Robin, Mordred, and the Merry Men nodded.

"I'm the one she wants," Emma said. "I'll go in first."

"Emma -- " Mary Margaret started.

Killian took Emma's hand. "We'll keep her occupied while the rest of you surround the barn. When you see an opportunity to attack, take it."

He felt Ian's fingers on his jacket sleeve, and understood: Ian was coming too, like it or not.

David took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "You guys go in first, and we'll surround her. There's a side door and a back door, and -- if someone can get up there -- a hay loft. If we give her too many targets, at least one of us is bound to be able to get Rowan."

There were more nods and murmurs of approval, and all at once, everyone began readying themselves for battle. Emma made Killian's cutlass appear at his hip, and one in Henry's hand. Robin, the Merry Men, and Mary Margaret started tightening bow strings and rearranging the arrows in their quivers. David, Lancelot and Mordred drew their swords.

Regina, however, still looked reluctant.

"Stay right behind us," Emma said. "Let Killian and I go ahead, but make sure she sees you and Robin. She'll know something's up otherwise."

"She likely already knows something's up," Killian said quietly.

The way Emma nodded told Killian that she thought the same. They were walking into a trap, and the worst part was, he couldn't see any other way out of this. They could only move forward, exactly as Zelena had planned.

Mordred came up and stopped next to Ian. He pulled a knife from his belt and held it hilt-first out towards Ian. It was the same knife he'd stabbed Ian in the hand with.

"Um..." Ian said, eyeing it with distaste.

"Take it," Mordred said. "You have no weapons."

"I have magic," Ian said, raising one eyebrow.

Mordred just gazed back steadily, unwavering, until finally Ian took the dagger from him. Mordred nodded once, and then he returned to stand beside Lancelot.

Ian stuck the dagger carefully through one of the belt loops on his jeans.

"Is that going to stay there?" Killian asked.

"Probably not," Ian growled.

"Don't stab yourself."

"I'll try," Ian said, and grinned.

"Everyone ready?" Mary Margaret asked. Her only answer was their grim expressions. "Alright, let's go."

"Wait!" Emma said, then she turned to Regina. "Do you think you can make everyone invisible? I mean -- not _us_. Just them."

Regina thought for a moment, then said, "Yes. But only temporarily."

"Can you make us invisible long enough for us to take up positions around the barn?" David asked.

"Yes."

David grinned. "Then that's all we need."

Regina waved her hand, and David, Mary Margaret, Lancelot, Mordred, and the Merry Men disappeared.

"Okay, let's go," whispered David's disembodied voice. Killian heard their footsteps disperse, heading off to the left and right.

Killian, Emma and Ian started walking, with Regina, Robin, and Henry a few steps behind. They approached the barn slowly, warily. Killian couldn't hear the others, which he took as a good sign.

"What exactly happened, anyway?" Regina asked abruptly. "Did you cross the border?"

"Yea," Emma said over her shoulder. "That's why the protection spells are done. Crossing over broke their connection to Ian's magic."

Regina swore under he breath. "Why didn't we realize...?"

"Our heart," Emma said. "Zelena found a way to use Killian's half to make us leave."

"But that's impossible: your heart is protected by light magic. She shouldn't have been able to use it to control you."

"She wasn't...controlling us, exactly. It was like..." Emma paused, her face scrunched up in thought.

"It was like someone whispering in your ear and telling you what to do," Killian said. "That voice made me believe it wasn't safe to stay in Storybrooke."

"Exactly," Emma said quietly.

They all fell silent as the barn loomed closer and closer in front of them. Killian reached out for Emma's hand, and, on Emma's other side, he saw Ian do the same.

The barn was 15 steps away. They could hear Zelena singing inside. The sound made Killian's guts twist.

10 steps.

Rowan started crying, and the singing grew louder, drowning out the baby's wails. Emma's fingers were like a vise. If Killian had had a heart right then, it would have been racing.

5 steps.

The singing stopped, and Rowan's cries became howls. Killian heard Emma's breath catch, he heard Regina and Robin's moans of anguish, and then pillars of green fire erupted all around them.

Killian froze, confused, but then he heard screams from within the flames, and he understood.

"MOM!" Emma yelled. "DAD!"

Ian made an upwards swooping motion with his arm, fist clenching in a grasping motion, and the green fire vanished. Killian saw Emma's parents and the others, unharmed but no longer invisible.

Mary Margaret turned to them, mouth open, but then more green fire burst from the ground. Killian and Emma whirled around to see a wall of it ten feet high, separating them from Regina, Robin, and Henry, separating them from _everyone_.

"Mom, it's a trap!" Henry shouted through the flames, but it was too late.

From the barn behind them they heard Zelena giggling.

 _Bloody hell_.

Killian could see Robin through the wall of fire, see his total agony, and a sort of calm fell over him.

He _wanted_ to run. He wanted to get Ian out of there, he wanted to get Emma and their _baby_ out of there -- but he couldn't. There was another child that needed them, and right now, he, Emma, and Ian were Rowan's best chance. They would try, for her sake and for Robin and Regina's, because Killian knew that if it were his baby in there, he wouldn't stop until he had her back.

Emma turned to Killian with the look of pure, stubborn determination on her face that Killian had fallen in love with, and he knew she was there with him -- they were in this together.

But she was carrying their son, and, above all, Killian had promised to protect him, to keep him safe.

Killian took Ian by the arm and drew him closer. He bent his head close to the boy's ear, and whispered, "You need to stay with your mother."

Ian turned his head slightly, listening. Killian knew Emma could hear too.

"You have magic. You can protect her against Zelena in a way I can't."

He felt Ian tense up. "Dad -- "

"You and your mother's lives are worth more to me than my own, do you understand? You have the most important job. Let me distract Zelena. You and your mother try to get Rowan. If you can't -- if it gets too dangerous, I want you two to get out of there, understand?"

Finally, Ian nodded. Killian raised his eyes, met Emma's over the top of Ian's head.

"If she tries to take the baby," he said, "leave. The baby's life is worth more than mine."

"Killian, no," Emma said, face crumpling.

"Emma, _please_ \-- "

"You can come in now, you know," drawled Zelena's voice from the barn.

They'd run out of time.

-

 _This is it_ , Emma thought.

Thunder grumbled overhead, and the sky seemed to darken suddenly as the sprinkle they were standing in became a deluge. Emma's jeans and boots were still wet from the Jolly Roger, and the rain soaked her hair and jacket in moments, chilling her and making her shiver. Killian drew his cutlass, and moved a half step in front of her, half-shielding her. On her other side, Ian moved so close that his arm pressed against hers.

Her boys.

She was happy Henry was trapped on the other side of the green flames -- he'd be safe, at least. Now Emma jut needed to make sure Killian and Ian stayed safe as well.

_And the baby._

The baby was restless inside her, and this time Emma couldn't deny that it had something to do with being near the barn.

 _I'm not letting Zelena take you, buddy_ , she told him firmly. _She's not going to hurt you_.

She caught Killian's eye, and he nodded at her, as if in agreement, and then the three of them marched together into the barn.

It was dim inside, and it took Emma's eyes a few moments to adjust. Zelena was standing near the back of the barn, opposite them on the other side of the time portal. In her arms was Rowan. She was still sobbing, although her whimpers were much weaker than before, and Emma wondered for just how long she'd been crying.

 Zelena spun to face them and flashed a smile. " _There_ you are," she said, for all the world sounding as if they were late to a dinner party. "I was wondering when you'd decide to show up."

Zelena sauntered slowly over to a basket that lay on the ground, and laid Rowan down inside. She straightened and waved her hand, and a net of green light appeared, encasing Rowan and the basket in a protective shell.

"We'll try to break that to get Rowan," Emma whispered. Killian nodded subtly, and Emma saw his fist tighten on the hilt of his cutlass.

Then Zelena turned to them. "And how's  _your_  little one?" she asked with a feral glint in her eyes. "Is he all ready for his big day?"

Both of Emma's hands moved to cover her belly, but she stood firm. Killian moved slightly more in front of her and raised his cutlass to point at Zelena.

"Oh, how _adorable_ ," Zelena said, and then her airy manner disappeared, and she said darkly. "But I'm taking that baby, Captain. And there's _nothing_ you can do to stop it."

Zelena gestured, and three of the four points of the compass flared to life with a different colored flame -- one bright red, one gold, and one a deep orange. The point closest to them was empty, waiting.

Waiting for her and Killian's baby.

"You won't lay a finger on my son," Killian snarled. "I'll die before I let that happen."

" _Die,_ then."

Zelena swept her arm towards them, flicking her wrist at the end. It happened too fast for Emma to try and stop. Pain ripped through her abdomen. She felt the baby jerked lower, deeper into her pelvis, and she screamed.

Killian shouted wordlessly and surged forward, cutlass flashing. His sword flitted out, and Zelena pulled her arm quickly out of the way.

The pain stopped, and Emma took a deep, shaky pull of air. Her legs were suddenly too weak to hold her up, and she fell to her knees. Inside her, the baby had gone still. The small flame of his magic was muted, nearly put out, and, strangely, hers was as well.

All except for one bright, slender thread. It pulsed inside her, the only bit of magic she had left.

And it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough to break the spell encasing Rowan, not even with Ian's help. But maybe, just maybe...

She closed her eyes.

 _The cuff_.

She could get the cuff on Zelena, if she had an opening.

Emma looked up. Killian was dancing around Zelena, sword darting here, swiping there. Every move was deflected by her magic. But he kept moving, kept attacking. He was keeping her attention and her energy focused on him.

But Emma knew he couldn't keep it up forever.

Ian was on his knees beside her, pulling on her arm.

"Mom! Mom, we gotta go! You need to get out -- "

Emma turned. She grabbed Ian's shirt in both hands and tugged. He fell still, staring at her. "Ian," she said urgently. "You have to get your dad's heart!"

"But dad told me -- "

" _Ian_!"

She saw the indecision on his face. Killian had given him an order, but Emma knew his instinct was to _fight_.

"Listen to me," she said more gently. "Zelena's distracted. Run over there and grab his heart. I'll cover you."

" _Mom_..."

She cupped his face between her hands. "I believe in you, kid. You can do this."

His eyes searched hers. Emma was struck then by how much he resembled Killian -- his eyes, his mouth, his ears, even the way his hair fell across his forehead. He'd inherited his father's wit and charm, his intelligence; but above all, his loyalty, his courage, and his _daring_.

Ian's jaw set, and he nodded. "Okay," he said. He pulled his face out of her hands and dashed away.

Emma turned back to Killian and Zelena. She grasped that one, shining thread of magic inside her with both hands, and held on tight.

-

Ian ran, keeping his eyes fixed on the point of the time portal containing his dad's heart. His own heartbeat pounded in his ears. He was almost there, he was close...

He heard Zelena shriek, and then something huge loomed in the corner of his vision, but before he could look there was a _crack!_ and he was hit with a harmless shower of straw -- Zelena had tried to throw a hay bale at him.

He ducked down and slid the last few feet to his dad's heart on his knees, and plunged his hand into the scarlet flame surrounding it. He grabbed the heart, hissing in pain as the fire burned him, and pulled it from its resting place.

The flame winked out.

But then the others did too -- the orange and the gold one -- and he heard Zelena scream with rage.

 _Shit_.

He looked up. Hovering around the barn were hay bales, buckets, coils of rope, pitchforks -- anything Zelena could lift with her magic. One at a time they were taking turns hurtling themselves at his dad.

Across the barn, his mom was waving her hand, trying to deflect them, trying to alter their path, but something was wrong -- there was only one tiny, flickering vein of magic inside her, and it was fading fast.

-

Killian was tiring.

Zelena expertly evaded his blade, no matter how ferociously he pursued her. But he couldn't let up, he couldn't give her an opening, an opportunity to use her magic -- she shrieked suddenly, startling him. His feet faltered, and in that moment, Zelena flung her hand into the air. All around them, objects began levitating themselves off the ground.

A hay bale careened past him, and then a bucket collided solidly with his shoulder, sending him lurching sideways. Zelena screamed again and threw an enormous green fireball at him. It passed over him harmlessly, repelled by the protective charm on Ian's hospital bracelet that he still wore, but a pitchfork followed in its wake.

Killian managed to turn at the last minute and keep it from impaling him, but the tines hit him at an angle, tearing through his shirt and gouging his chest as it flew by. Gritting his teeth, he stumbled backwards, and ran into something behind him that kept him from falling. He felt a hand on his arm, but before he could turn to see who was there, he was hit between the shoulder blades with a cannonball blast -- or, at least that's what it felt like.

The cutlass slipped from his fingers. He bellowed in pain and surprise, and whirled around. Ian was there, hands raised, eyes wide with alarm.

"Sorry!" he said. "Sorry, sorry, sorry! I thought it would be better if I just did it quick!"

_His heart._

Killian had his heart back. He felt it pounding in his chest, and it was _magnificent_. Everything was sharper, brighter, more vibrant -- he hadn't realized just how much he'd lost until that moment.

The pain was more vivid, as well.

The cuts across his chest were burning, his shoulder was bruised and stiff, and his sword arm was dead weight at his side.

But this wasn't finished.

"Get back to your mother!" he ground out.

"Okay -- " Ian said, but then his head jerked back like he'd been punched. He took a few steps backwards, and something clattered to the ground at his feet. Blood spilled from his nose and down his chin. He gasped, shook his head in confusion, and then he was flying backwards. He hit the wall of the barn and slid to the ground, then lay still.

"IAN!"

He took one step towards his son, but then he heard Emma screaming and a chorus of shouts from outside the barn.

"KILLIAN!" Emma shrieked.

Killian spun towards her voice. Zelena stood over her, arm extended, fingers curled claw-like. Emma was clutching her stomach, rocked forward, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Killian didn't hesitate. The knife that had dropped from Ian's belt was on the ground. He picked it up and threw it with every ounce of strength left in his arm. It soared end over end across the barn, and buried itself in Zelena's back, in the meaty part just over her shoulder blade.

As Zelena pitched sideways, screeching, two arrows flew through the barn door and took her in the side -- one pierced her other shoulder, and one her arm.

Emma straightened. She pulled something out of her jacket pocket and held it up. It was the enchanted cuff. Emma twisted her wrist, and the cuff disappeared. She sagged forward then, as if all her strength had fled.

"NO!" Zelena yelled. The cuff was on her wrist. She pulled at it, fingers scrabbled at the leather, trying to pry it off, but it was useless. The spell around Rowan and the fire blocking the door disappeared.

"Emma!" Killian said, starting towards her.

"Get Rowan!" she gasped, lifting her head to look at him. She was drained, he could tell, but her green eyes still glittered fiercely.

Killian hesitated, but then he heard the creak of drawn bowstrings from beyond the barn door, and knew Emma was covered. He veered to the left and raced to the basket at the back of the barn. He crouched down beside it and reached inside. Rowan's face was red from crying, but she'd apparently lost her voice. Her fists were clenched tightly against her chest, and her small body shook with silent sobs.

Killian eased her out of the basket and into the crook of his hook arm. "Shhh," he soothed, running his fingers over her cheeks, brushing the tears that clung to them away. "Shhh, lass, you're safe now."

As he murmured softly to her, he felt her begin to relax. Her eyes opened, fixing on him. Killian hoped she recognized him, and she seemed to because she stopped crying.

"There's a brave lass," he cooed, rocking her gently up and down. "You're safe now. Everything's alright."

There were footsteps running towards him, and then Robin and Regina were there. Robin scooped Rowan up carefully and kissed her. There were tears in his eyes.

"It's me," he said. "It's me. You're safe." He held Rowan close to his face, one hand rubbing circles on her back.

Killian clapped Robin on the arm, received a soft, "Thank you," and started back towards Emma. As soon as he took his first step, however, the time portal activated.

The towering pillar of light roared to life, sending them staggering backwards. Warm gusts of air sent dirt and debris flying everywhere.

"What's going on?" Robin asked.

"Is that -- ?" Regina started.

Killian didn't answer, he just sped away, back to Emma. She was still on the ground. As Killian rounded the time portal and reached her side, two figures emerged. They were spat out of the time portal and landed hard on their feet, in front of the soaking wet, mud-splattered group ranged around Emma.

Before anyone could react, one of the figures turned and waved her hand at the time portal. The wind fell away, and the roar of the time portal became muted, diminished. The figure turned back, and Killian's heart stuttered.

It was Emma.

It was Emma _from the future_.

And next to her was...

 _Killian_.

Zelena looked wildly in between both sets of Emmas and Killians, jabbering incoherently.

"Oh, shut up," the other Emma said, and with another wave of her hand, she froze Zelena.

Future Killian _tsk_ ed. "Was that entirely necessary, love?" he asked.

Future Emma crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "I don't know, was trying to rip my son out of my womb _entirely necessary_?"

The other Killian tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "Fair point. Can she feel pain while she's frozen like that?"

"Yea."

"Good," he said, then looked sideways at Killian. "Don't tell Ian I said that."

 _Ian_.

Killian spun and ran to where Ian had fallen. He was struggling to sit up, clutching his head. The blood from his nose had stopped flowing, but it had stained his chin and the front of his shirt.

"Are you alright?" Killian asked, dropping to a crouch beside him, helping him sit up.

"Yea, I'll be fine. Is mom okay?"

"She's fine," said a voice next to them. "I just healed her. She'll be okay."

It was the other Emma. She was squatting down next to him. Killian's breath caught, and he froze. He stared at her with wide eyes. He felt suddenly nervous.

She looked at him, smiled, and said, "Hey," then turned back to Ian. She put her hands on either side of his head, and a soft white light flowed out.

Killian watched her. She was _his_ Emma, but she was different. She didn't look much older -- a few threads of silver in her golden hair, a few tiny lines at the corners of her eyes -- but her presence was...it was _more_. Her strength was deeper, and she had a calmness and a confidence that radiated from her like light.

And she totally knew he was checking her out.

Killian gave himself a little shake, and looked to Ian. The white light faded from Emma's hands, and she withdrew them, dropping them to Ian's hands, taking them up in hers.

Ian sighed gratefully. His shoulders relaxed. "Thanks, mo -- " he had opened his eyes. " _MOM!_ "

"Hey, kid. Long time no see, huh?"

Ian surged forward into her arms -- nearly knocking her down -- and hugged her tightly.

" _I missed you_ ," he said, voice muffled by her coat or her hair or both.

"We were right here with you the whole time," Emma said, and she looked at Killian.

Killian nodded, catching her meaning, understanding that she was saying _thank you_.

Ian pulled away. "Is dad here, too?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Sure is," Emma said, and nodded back towards where the other Killian stood, supporting Emma, who was on her feet again.

Ian sprinted across the barn and, without hesitation, leapt into the other Killian's arms. The other Killian caught him and leaned back, holding Ian off the ground.

"Ah, Ian, lad," he said, grinning hugely. "You don't know how happy I am to see you safe."

Killian was about to follow, but the Emma from the future stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"You're hurt," she said. She was frowning at his chest, and there was a little crease of worry between her eyebrows.

The cuts across his ribcage stung, and he could feel hot blood trickling down his chest, but he shrugged. "Just a scratch -- " he started, but then the other Emma slid her hand inside the ruins of his shirt. He sucked in a breath, partly because her fingers scraped across his wound, and partly because _she was touching him_.

"Ah, sorry," Emma said, throwing him a quick, apologetic glance. "Let me heal it really quick."

Her magic felt cool against his skin, and the pain vanished immediately. After a moment, she withdrew her hand gently, and tilted her chin up. He drank in the sight of her giddily, until another voice cut across the barn.

"Oi! Stop flirting with my wife!" the other Killian barked.

The other Emma smiled up at him and winked, then eased around him.

"And what about _you_?" she called. "You'd better not be flirting with...me."

Killian followed her back to the group and went directly to his Emma, who was watching him approach with a knowing smile that made him blush.

The other Killian chuckled, and said, "She came on to _me_ , Swan. You know how you are..."

Ian slid out of the other Killian's arms and to his feet. "Dad!" he said to the other Killian. "Are you serious? C'mon! Hands off my mom." They all looked at him in surprise, and he said, "That's _his_ Emma," with a nod at Killian. "You've got your own."

The other Killian just laughed, while the other Emma shook her head, hands on her hips, and Ian looked on, doing his best disapproving-David impression.

Killian turned to Emma. "Is he -- are you...?" He put his hand over her belly, and felt the baby stirring inside her. He could have cried in relief. Emma put her hands over his.

"We're both okay," she said. Killian leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Then the other Emma turned to them, and said ruefully, "I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this isn't over yet."


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM THE WORST
> 
> Ok, I split this into two chapters because the second half is being a little bitch, but I refuse to give up on it or try to rush it, so I am liberating the nice first half from its evil twin. I apologize for it being a bit of a short, dull, transition chapter, but I promise the next one will make it all worth it. I'll be posting 56 within the next few days. In the meantime, enjoy!!!

Getting the enchanted cuff onto Zelena's wrist had cost Emma her last ounce of magic. The one remaining thread of it inside her sputtered and died, and the baby...the baby --

Emma had heard Killian's voice, calling her name, and she'd gasped, "Get Rowan," even as, inside her, their own baby had fallen worryingly still. Emma couldn't sense his magic at all. She didn't know...she wasn't sure if that meant...

There was the roar of the time portal, and then it fell away. She heard people talking above her, around her. She was vaguely aware of hearing her own voice, although she was certain she wasn't speaking, and Killian -- _two_ Killians. There was the sound of boots, pounding away across the barn to her left. And then someone was squatting in front of her. A pair of hands attached to arms clad in a red leather jacket were taking hers gently.

Emma looked up, into a pair of green eyes she recognized.

"You're here," she said.

The future version of her smiled. "You and I went to Neverland to save Henry, and then to the Underworld to rescue Killian; did you really think there was _anything_ that would stop us from coming for Ian?"

Emma almost laughed, except --

"The baby," she said, desperate. "Something's wrong. _Zelena_ \-- "

The other Emma squeezed her fingers, and Emma felt strength flowing back into her. The white fire at her center flared to life once more, and as the threads of her magic reignited, so did the baby's. She felt him give a little shiver inside her.

"Is he...?" she started.

"He's not hurt," future Emma said softly. "Our magic was just enough to protect him."

Emma bit her lip hard.

 _Just enough_.

As in _almost not enough_.

She could have lost him. She nearly had.

"Hey," the other Emma said, quietly but urgently. "Hey, look at me." Emma did. It was strange, seeing herself from the outside like that. "You didn't fail him, do you understand? He's right here. He's safe. He's _okay_."

Emma eyed herself, searched her own expression, looked for the lie -- and found only a serene determination.

Finally, she nodded.

"Okay," the other Emma said, and gave Emma's fingers one more squeeze. "Now, excuse me while I go get _my_ Ian."

She stood and moved away, and then someone else was crouched in front of Emma.

"How are you feeling, love?"

Emma froze, startled.

It was the other Killian.

Time had not diminished the blueness of his eyes, nor the intensity of his gaze. Some grey had infiltrated the black of his hair and the red-brown of his beard, but it looked as thick and full as ever, and although some lines stood out on his face, Emma recognized them as the marks of a man who smiled a lot. There was something more mature and settled about him -- something deeply, intensely attractive.

She cleared her throat, struggling to find her voice. "You're...you're, uh..."

He grinned smugly.

" _Dashing_ , I know," he said, and then his expression grew serious. "Honestly, Emma: do you feel alright?"

"I'm okay," she said, nodding quickly. "We're okay."

His eyes flitted downwards to her belly, and his hand rose tentatively.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a breathy whisper.

"Of course."

His fingers touched her lightly, hesitantly, and then he flattened his palm against her stomach. His thumb stroked back and forth, and after a moment, the baby shifted and kicked his hand.

"Hey there, lad" he said softly, lovingly.

Emma caught the awe in his expression, and she smiled. This was the Killian who'd raised Ian; the Killian who'd read him bedtime stories and helped him with his math homework; the Killian who'd packed his lunches and soothed his tears; the Killian who'd taught him how to sail and how to defend himself.

This was the Killian who'd been there for him -- _always_.

She could see _her_ Killian in him, and before she could stop herself, she asked, "What are you thinking?"

The other Killian didn't hesitate before he answered. "I was thinking I can't believe he's already 13," he said. "It feels like it was only yesterday that I held him in my arms for the first time." He paused and shook his head slightly. "But then sometimes I forget that there was ever a time in our lives that he wasn't there with us..."

"We haven't exactly taken things slowly, have we?" 

He chuckled. He raised his gaze to meet hers, and smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "No, we haven't. But I don't regret a single moment, Emma. Not one."

Emma felt herself blush, but she returned his smile boldly, and said, "Is he as much of a troublemaker as I think he is?"

Future Killian flashed her an impish grin. "He's _worse_."

He took her hand, then, and, with an almighty effort on both their parts, helped her to stand. Emma was about to thank him when something blonde-haired and moving at a high speed barreled into him and engulfed him in a hug.

" _Dad!_ "

Future Killian staggered backwards a few steps, but his arms went around Ian and he leaned back, keeping Ian off his feet, holding the boy tightly to his chest.

"Ian!" he said, grinning hugely. "You don't know how happy I am to see you safe."

Emma watched them for a moment, feeling a strange, sad wrench in her gut -- _he's leaving_ \-- and then she turned her head, looking for _her_ Killian. Her future self was healing Killian, and Killian just looked...dumbstruck.

 _Fuckstruck_ , she corrected.

The other Killian had seen too. "Oi!" he barked. "Stop flirting with my wife!"

Killian started guiltily, but the other Emma just smirked and strode over.

"And what about _you_?" she called. "You'd better not be flirting with...me."

Future Killian chuckled, and said, "She came on to _me_ , Swan. You know how you are..."

Killian was following behind the other Emma, grinning foolishly, cheeks pink. Emma smiled at him, knowing _exactly_ what was going through his mind, and his blush deepened.

Ian slid out of the other Killian's arms and to his feet. "Dad!" he said sharply to the other Killian. "Are you serious? C'mon! Hands off my mom." The look of shock on future Killian's face made Emma bite her lip to keep from giggling.

"That's _his_ Emma," Ian continued, with a nod at Killian. "You've got your own."

The other Killian burst into laughter. The other Emma stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head, trying her best to look disapproving, while Ian glared at them both, doing a pretty decent imitation of David at his sternest and most judgmental.

Killian was at Emma's side, his hand on her belly. "Is he -- are you...?" His smile had faded. His voice was low and frightened. Emma placed both her hands over his, making sure he felt the baby moving.

"We're both okay," she said. Killian leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Then the other Emma turned to them, and said, "I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this isn't over yet."

Emma knew that tone, and it filled her with dread. Her eyes darted to Zelena, who was still immobile, still studded with a dagger and two arrows like a bizarre pincushion, then back to her future self.

"You have to come with us," the other Emma said.

Killian grasped her meaning before Emma did.

"What, back to the future?" Killian said, half in bewilderment.

" _No_ ," Emma said. "The only place I'm going right now is the hospital."

But the other Emma was shaking her head, frowning apologetically. "I'm sorry, but you have to."

Emma was about to argue that no she fucking didn't _have_ to, and she would physically fight anyone who told her otherwise, but Killian spoke first. He stepped forward and a little in front of her. His tone was even, and his hand was held out in a placating gesture. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I think time-travel is a little beyond our capabilities at the moment."

The other Killian took a step forward as well. "I know it doesn't make sense right now," he said. "But I promise it will. You have to trust us." He looked at his Emma, who nodded, and then said, "There's something you need to see."

She could feel Killian bristling with frustration and annoyance next to her, and she looked at her future self pleadingly.

_Don't do this to us._

"I know what you're feeling," the other Emma said. Although her voice still held remorse, she folded her arms over her chest stubbornly. "I was you. I remember being exactly where you are now, thinking exactly what you're thinking."

"Then you know how crazy jumping into a time portal when you're about to give birth sounds," Emma spat. The vehemence in her own voice startled her, but to her surprise, the other Emma just smiled.

"I know. And I _also_ know that that baby's not ready to come out yet," she said, and her gaze slid to Ian. "He's got his dad's drama gene -- "

" _I'm not dramatic_ ," Ian and the other Killian huffed at the same time, but future Emma continued as if she didn't hear them.

"He's gonna pick what he thinks is the most exciting moment for his debut," she said.

"Exciting is one way to put it," the other Killian grumbled. " _Terrifying_ is more accur -- " His Emma elbowed him, and he cleared his throat and looked downwards, chastised.

Abruptly, David's voice interrupted.

"Okay," he said slowly, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm not the only one seeing two of each, right?"

Emma almost jumped out of her skin. The others -- her parents, Henry, Lancelot and Mordred, the Merry Men, Regina, Robin, and the baby -- had been standing so still and so silently behind her that she'd forgotten they were there. But they were: soaked, mud-splattered, and exhausted, standing in a loose half-circle just inside the barn door, watching.

"Hey, dad," the other Emma said, but she made no move towards him, and the smile slipped from David's face.

"You're just here for Ian," he said.

"Yea, I'm sorry. I wish we could stay and talk, but we've gotta go. We don't have a lot of time," she said, then turned to Ian. The front of his sweater was streaked with blood, and there was still straw in his hair from the bale Emma had blasted apart to prevent it from crushing him. He looked dazed, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"You ready to say goodbye, kid?" she asked him gently.

He blinked, startled, then looked back, at David, at Henry -- the two people he'd grown closest to in the past 3 months, aside from Emma and Killian. "I have to go," he said, as if he was just realizing it for the first time.

Henry looked devastated. He turned his head sharply, biting his lip. David slipped a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Hey, it's alright," Emma heard him mutter, but his own voice quivered with sadness.

"Hang on," Regina said abruptly. "What about Zelena?"

"We're taking her back with us," the other Emma said, brisk and businesslike.

"And then what?" Robin asked.

"Super jail," Ian growled.

"No, not super jail," Emma said, but her tone was slightly wistful.

Robin was still waiting for an answer. Rowan was fast asleep now, but he still had her clutched to his cheek. He was glaring sideways at Zelena, and Emma was pretty sure the only thing keeping him from striking her down was the baby in his arms.

The other Emma took a deep breath. "It's really up to you. Killian and I aren't here to decide her fate. We're just here to escort her back to the future."

Robin nodded, but he was silent. He was staring hard at Zelena. Her eyes blazed back at him out of the frozen snarl of her face. He seemed to be contemplating, and Emma seemed to be waiting for him to decide something.

After a long moment, he said, "I suppose I can't truly speak for my future self...but I believe what we all agreed to earlier should still stand. As much as she doesn't deserve it, I'm willing to let Zelena live if my daughter decides she wishes to pursue a relationship with her birth mother."

Future Emma nodded.

"Although," Robin added. "I believe I may have a few terms she'll need to agree to before I allow her near my daughter again."

"What if Rowan says no?" Regina asked. "Or if Zelena won't agree to your terms?"

Future Emma shrugged, and said, "Super jail, I guess. I personally wouldn't mind locking her away to rot forever."

"Aye, me either," the other Killian agreed in a dark rumble. "Somewhere so deep underground that she forgets what the sun looks like, or what warmth is."

Emma couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw Zelena's eyes widen in fear.

"Before you take her, can you promise us that in the future Zelena will never be able to hurt my daughter again?" Robin asked.

"On my life and on our friendship, mate, I promise you Zelena will do no harm to _anyone_ ever again," the other Killian said, and future Emma nodded firmly in agreement.

"Thank you," Robin said. Regina hooked her hand through his arm and they walked from the barn without a backward glance, carrying their daughter with them. The Merry Men bobbed their heads and waved their hands in farewell, and followed.

"I think we'll take our leave as well," Lancelot said, and as he shook hands with David, Emma heard him add in an undertone, "Are things in Storybrooke always this strange?"

"You sorta get used to it," Mary Margaret said.

Lancelot and Mordred departed, leaving just Mary Margaret, David, and Henry. The silence was deafening. Ian shuffled his feet, casting helpless glances between both sets of his parents, gathered on his one side near the time portal, and his grandparents and Henry, standing in the doorway.

David squared his shoulders and stepped into the gap. "So, you're going?" he asked.

"Yea," Ian said weakly.

David pulled him into a hard hug, one arm firmly across the back of his shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his head. "I'm going to miss you," he said.

"You won't remember me," Ian said.

"Maybe not," David agreed with a small smile. "But somehow I think I'll still miss you."

David released Ian, and then looked at future Killian. He had drawn himself up, head held high, in the way that made Emma think: _King David_.

"You did well," he said, and it was like a proclamation.

The other Killian ducked his head in solemn acknowledgement. "He's my son, mate. How could I not do my best by him?" Then he looked up, met David's eye. "And, truthfully, I had some help from one of the finest fathers I've ever met."

David grinned.

"Although," the other Killian said suddenly to Ian, as if just remembering, "we _do_ need to have a conversation about your recklessness."

Killian stood shoulder to shoulder with his future self. "That's interesting," he said. "I was _just_ telling him the exact same thing."

Ian looked between the two versions of his father, at their identical stern scowls, and gulped.

"I know," he said. "I know. I messed up. That was -- "

"Foolish," Killian provided.

" _Irresponsible_ ," the other Killian said, and paused a moment, letting it sink in. "We're a family, Ian. That means you're never alone."

"I know."

"You never should have gone chasing after Zelena on your own." The other Killian's voice grew quiet. "If your mother and I had truly died, and you went into that time portal and never came back...who'd be there to raise your sisters?"

Emma started.

Sisters? _Plural?_

Killian's eyes grew wide and round, and his lips parted in astonishment. His gaze slid sideways, to Emma's, and she could read his thoughts perfectly: _Sisters, Swan?_

Ian nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't -- I wasn't thinking."

"I'm aware you weren't thinking," future Killian said, lips quirking at the corners. "You were angry, and scared. I understand. Trust me, I do. But your responsibility is not to avenge us. Your responsibility is to your family. Understand?"

"Yes." Ian stood in silence for a moment, eyes fixed on the ground. Emma could see his thoughts whirling, see guilt settling heavy on his shoulders.

The other Killian spoke again, and this time his tone was light, teasing. "You've gotten taller," he said.

And just like that, the tension vanished.

Ian's head snapped up. "Yea," he replied.

Future Killian heaved a great sigh. "I suppose I'd better enjoy what little time I have left being taller than you, then."

Ian narrowed his eyes and smirked. "I'm coming for you, old man."

The other Killian laughed. "You've spent three months with my younger self and now I'm ' _old man_ '?"

"Well, you've got gray hair..."

"Age didn't give me these: _you_ gave me these! You and your sisters -- "

"Can we maybe finish this discussion on the other side?" Emma interjected, but she was smiling indulgently at both her Killian and Ian.

"Aye, love, you're right," the other Killian said. "We don't have time to waste."

He looked at Emma's belly, and Emma's hands automatically lifted to it.

"Should we...wait?" David asked, glancing worriedly at her stomach.

Emma looked to her other self.

"You'll be back in a few hours," future Emma said.

"I'll wait," David said firmly.

Emma smiled at him. "Thanks, dad."

Ian hugged Mary Margaret, and then Mary Margaret went to Emma and cupped her cheeks between her hands.

"Be careful," she whispered.

"We will, mom," Emma said. "We'll be back before you know it, and then it'll be time for you to meet your new grandson."

"I'll pack you a bag for the hospital and bring it there."

Emma sucked in a breath. " _Shit_ ," she hissed.

"What?" David asked quickly.

"The Jolly Roger's still way out at sea. All our stuff's there."

"I'll go to the house and pack some new things," Mary Margaret said. "Is there anything you need that you don't have an extra of at home?"

Emma bit her lip. "The pajamas I wanted him to wear home from the hospital -- the ones Killian bought him -- are on the ship."

"Emma, love, it's fine. Don't worry -- "

"I'll call someone to start towing the ship in," David said, and he was already reaching inside his jacket for his phone.

" _Tow_ her?" Killian spluttered, outraged.

"Aye, mate," the other Killian said, laying a soothing hand on his younger self's arm. "Let him do it. Trust me."

"Very well," Killian said grudgingly.

"Now, why don't you give me a hand with Zelena, mate?"

The two Killians moved away, towards Zelena. Emma took a deep breath, and stepped a little closer to the time portal. It was still raging, but it was as if it was trapped behind tinted glass. It's light was diminished, its roar muted.

Her hands trembled where they rested against her belly. The baby had been through so much already, and now she was about to throw time-travel in, on top of everything else.

The other Emma saw her faltering, and offered her her hand. "Do you trust me?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Emma said, without hesitation, and took her other self's hand.

Ian joined them, on Emma's other side, and leaned across her to ask, "Hey, are we going to -- "

"Yes," the other Emma answered.

"Will they meet -- "

" _Yes_."

Ian nodded, then turned back a little sadly. "Wait. I have to say goodbye to Henry."

"Oh!" future Emma said. "I almost forgot. Henry's coming too."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "I am? Really?"

The other Emma smiled. "There's someone who wants to meet you."

"Is it -- ?" Ian asked.

" _Yes_ ," the other Emma said in exasperation. "Stop trying to ruin the surprise."

Henry stepped up next to Ian, who grinned excitedly at him.

"You're _really_ going to like this," Ian said.

Both Killians returned, dragging Zelena in between them, and they all edged a little closer to the time portal. Ian and Henry switched sides so that Emma could hold Killian's hook with her free hand. They took another step forward, and as they did it was as if the time portal roared to life. It's light brightened until it nearly blinded her, and the rushing sound was almost deafening.

"Wait!" Emma yelled suddenly. "How are we getting back?"

"Regina will take care of it!" the other Emma shouted, and gave her fingers a squeeze.

Then, they jumped through.

-

The time portal was an even less pleasant experience the second time around than it was the first. Emma clung tightly to Killian's hook, her anchor as she was buffeted on all sides. She could feel the other Emma's magic, pulling them, guiding them to the future...

Just when Emma thought she was about to throw up or ass out or both, they were falling.

"Regina!" Emma shouted.

"I've got it!" Regina called back.

The surging orange light from the portal disappeared, and they were in the daylight and fresh air once more, hurtling towards the ground.

Emma's feet hit the dirt hard, and she would have pitched to her knees if not for Killian and the other Emma's hands. Ian, however, fell and sprawled across the barn floor, taking Henry down with him.

The other Emma snorted. "You guys okay?"

"Yes," they both answered, and scrambled to their feet.

"Emma, are you alright?" Killian asked her, his voice low and quiet in her ear.

"Yea," Emma said.

"You all made it," said Regina's voice.

She stood a few feet away. There was a piece of white chalk held loosely in one black-gloved hand. Emma looked down. Scrawled in a ring around the time portal was the same spell that she and Ian had done in the past; behind them, the time portal had shrunk down to a narrow gash in the air, but it was still there, still active.

"Welcome back," said a voice that was both strange and intimately familiar to Emma.

She looked around, and saw Henry's brown eyes on her -- only it wasn't _her_ Henry. Emma realized with a jolt that she was looking at the grown up, _adult_ version of Henry. He was Killian's height but stockier, built along similar lines to David. His hair was shorter and more clean cut, and there was a bit of stubble along his chin and jaw.

Emma gaped.

"Henry?"

"Hey, mom," he said, grinning at her, and suddenly he looked like his 13 year old self again.

Ian scrambled to his feet and ran headlong into his brother's chest. The other Henry's arms went around him and squeezed hard.

"Hey," Henry said. "Have fun?"

"Yea," Ian said. "You know, you used to be pretty cool,"

"What do you mean _used to be_?" Future Henry asked.

"Used to be," Ian said. "As in, not anymore. That's why I brought your younger self here, to replace you. See?" He gestured back at the younger Henry.

"You little punk," the other Henry growled, and suddenly they were wrestling, each trying to pin the other to the ground.

"Stop, stop," Ian said, but he was laughing.

Both Killians were chuckling.

"Do they do that a lot?" Emma asked the other Killian.

"Aye," he answered. "Ever since Ian was a toddler. He used to treat Henry like a jungle gym. When he got too big for that, it sort of turned into this..."

"I've never seen them do it, you know, maliciously," Emma said. "It's just a game for them. They love each other too much to actually try and hurt each other."

Emma nodded, reassured, then she turned to Killian. "Did you and Liam fight like that?"

"All the time," he said.

"Although, in our case," said the other Killian, "I think Liam did it more because he knew we had a lot of pent up anger we needed to release, and he knew taking it out play fighting was safer than taking it out in actual fighting."

"Not that it stopped us from fighting, unfortunately," Killian said.

"Aye."

Regina strode up next to them. "So," she said. "What's the plan? Are we taking Zelena to the station?"

"Yes. You are," the other Emma said. "We're going to meet you there in an hour. There's something we need to do first."

Regina nodded. "Should I unfreeze my sister and treat her wounds, or not?"

"Not," said a chorus of voices, and Regina smiled faintly.

"Very well," she said. "I'll see you in an hour." She gripped Zelena's arm with one hand, and threw the other upwards. A cloud of purple smoke appeared, and she vanished.

"We'll stay here," the other Henry said, and jerked his head towards his younger self. "There are some things we need to discuss."

Henry crossed his arms over his chest. "Is this going to be about how I can't change the future?"

"Yep," older Henry answered. "That and, well, since you're keeping your memories, there are some things you can't see yet."

Henry nodded, and uncrossed his arms.

"We'll be back in a little bit," Emma said, and kissed the top of Henry's head. "You two be good."

Both Henrys smiled at her.

Future Emma went up to the older Henry.

"Is everyone -- ?"

"Yea, mom. Everyone who needs to be kept out of sight is out of sight," Henry said. His eyes darted to the other Killian and back.

The other Emma and the other Killian both nodded.

"Okay, we're all set," the other Emma said. "You guys ready?"

"Yes," Emma answered. She was feeling impatient. She had a vague idea of where they were headed, and what -- or, rather, whom -- they were going to see.

And if she was right, if they were headed _there_ , to see _them_...

Emma looked at Killian, and saw that he was thinking the same thing. His hand founds hers, and their fingers threaded together.

Future Emma saw, and smiled. "Let's go," she said. She gestured, and they were all engulfed in an enormous gray-white cloud.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad to say that, after this one, the next two chapters will definitely be the last. This story is finally drawing to a close.
> 
> When it finishes, I'll be moving onto another story, "Alone, Until I Get Home", that's like a "what if Emma became pregnant with Ian before her and Henry had their memories erased and left for New York, and then 7 years passed before they were brought back to Storybrooke" 3B canon-divergence sort of thing.
> 
> And after that, I'll hop back into this universe to write the sequel to I belong to you, you belong to me, which takes place 10 years in the future.
> 
> So, for now, ENJOY! And don't cry (I'm crying).

Emma felt pavement beneath her boots and felt the warmth of the late spring breeze on her exposed face and hands before the veil of gray-white smoke cleared to reveal the house. They were standing at the gate, Emma next to her other self, Ian and the two Killians behind them.

"We're home," the other Emma said softly.

Emma could feel her eyes -- she could feel _everyone_ looking at her -- but she ignored them. They were waiting; for her, she guessed, though she didn't know why. She wasn't directing things here, she was merely a passenger.

She rested one hand lightly along the top of the fence, but she didn't open it. Something made her hesitate. Suddenly, she felt like an intruder.

"Doesn't seem real, does it?" the other Emma asked quietly.

Her response stuck in her throat. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, and forced herself to look.

Everything was mostly the same: the house was the same grayish-blue, trimmed in white, the porch swing still hung just to the right of the door, and the two huge trees still stood in the front corner of the yard...but there were differences, here and there -- small additions. A small yellow bicycle was propped against the side of the house, an assortment of hockey sticks were scattered across the lawn, and, in the back, Emma spied a glimpse of something that looked suspiciously like a playhouse shaped like a pink version of the Jolly Roger.

"I never thought..." Emma said, but stopped and swallowed hard. There were buttercups blooming in the flowers beds all around the perimeter of the house. Killian, Henry, and Ian had planted buttercups for Emma for Christmas.

"We plant them every year," said the other Emma. "There are others in the back. Different kinds. Killian planted them for Evie. She _loves_ flowers."

_Evie?_

"What about...what about Jackie?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma caught her other self smiling. "Jackie likes them too. The buttercups, at least. Yellow's her favorite color. But you'd never get her to admit she liked something as girly as a _flower_."

The other Emma sighed softly, and looked down. "Sometimes I still have trouble believing it. Believing that I deserve this; believing that it's okay to _enjoy_ having it. And then...and then some crisis happens." The other Emma picked her head up, locked eyes with Emma. "And it reminds me that it _is_ real and it's _mine_. And that I need to keep fighting for it if I want to keep it that way."

Emma shied away from the intensity of her future self's gaze for a moment, and she stared around once more at the house, at the things in the yard, at the chalk drawings of a rainbow and a dog on the walkway.

She _wanted_ this.

She wanted a big house with a white picket fence.

She glanced down at the other Emma's hand, saw the engagement ring and the wedding band sitting proudly on her finger.

A husband.

 _Killian_.

Killian and three lives they'd created together.

Emma wanted that too. She wanted Ian, and Jackie, and Evie.

She wanted this future, exactly as it was.

Emma took a deep breath, feeling the tears recede, feeling her shyness and her nervousness recede. "So," she said, meeting her future self's eyes once more. "He proposed, huh?"

"Something like that," the other Emma said, grinning, and then they both giggled.

Behind them, Emma heard Killian -- she wasn't sure which one, maybe both -- shift and clear his throat.

"Shall we proceed?"

"You ready?" future Emma asked.

"Yea," Emma said. "Yea, I'm ready."

The door opened before they reached it, and David stepped out.

"Emma," he said. Emma saw the same subtle signs of age on him that she saw on her and Killian's future selves: some silver in his hair, some crinkles around his pale blue eyes. His cheerful smile was the same, however. He hugged her gently, careful of her beachball-sized belly, and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like this kid's about to drop outta me at any second," she said dryly.

He laughed and pulled away, looked her up and down for a second with that same, cheerful smile, then turned to the other Emma.

"Did everything go okay?"

"Yea," future Emma answered. "Regina took Zelena to the station."

"Alright, I should go meet them. The girls are upstairs."

"Thanks, dad," future Emma said.

"No problem. Now, where's my favorite grandson?" he said, then grinned and pulled Ian into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, grandpa," Ian grunted. "Miss me?"

"You know, I think somehow I sort of did," he said. He took a step back and held Ian out in front of him. He looked at him for a long moment, taking in the changes. "You were amazing, kid. You really were."

Ian cast his eyes downwards. "Thanks," he said, blushing.

David clapped him on the shoulder, then looked at Emma and Killian.

"Brace yourselves," he said.

The other Emma snorted. She opened the front door so the rest could slip through. Inside, Emma had a brief moment to glance around and take in the purple and yellow backpacks by the kitchen table, the toys in the living room and the coloring book opened on the rug next to a pile of crayons, the picture frames on the walls and propped on the mantel and on shelves, and then there were thundering footsteps on the stairs, and two small voices shouting, "Mom! Dad!"

Two little girls reached the bottom of the steps and skidded to a halt.

Emma heard Killian's exhalation of surprise next to her

"Emma," he said quietly. "They look just like you."

Emma stared. Two sets of identical green eyes -- Emma's eyes -- stared back.

There was no denying it...

_Three._

_We have three._

"Uh..." said one. She had straight blonde hair cropped just below her chin, and a face full of freckles. Emma recognized her from Ian's dreams, when she had stood with her hands on her hips, calling Ian out for kissing Rowan.

_Jackie._

"Do we have two moms and two dads now?" asked the smaller one, eyeing Emma and Killian curiously from behind purple-rimmed glasses.

 _Evie_.

The other Killian stepped in. "Aye. You three are so misbehaved you need _four_ parents." He waggled his eyebrows at the youngest and she giggled, showing dimpled cheeks.

Her appearance was in between Ian and Jackie, leaning a little more towards Jackie in that she resembled Emma. She had missed the freckle gene, however, and her hair was long, curly, and brown, not blonde like the other two. Both girls wore Storybrooke Elementary uniforms, and Emma guessed that if Jackie was 8-years-old and in 2nd grade, Evie was between 5 and 6 and in Kindergarten.

"Are we gonna have another brother or sister, too?" Evie asked, pointing to Emma's belly, then added as an afterthought, "I hope it's a sister."

"You two want another sibling?" the other Killian asked, raising one eyebrow, then he turned to Emma, head cocked coyly, and said, "Hear that, Swan? The girls want another sibling. I think it best we oblige -- "

The other Emma pushed Killian's smirking face out of hers, and said, "Keep dreaming, buddy."

Jackie was looking at Emma critically with an expression Emma recognized -- it was the one she used during interrogations.

"Are you guys from like an alternate reality or something?" she asked.

"Where's your gray hair?" Evie said to Killian.

"Yea, how come you don't look old?" Jackie added.

Ian burst out laughing.

"Hey!" the other Killian said indignantly.

Hiding a smile, the other Emma turned to the two girls, and said, "Guys, this is me and your dad from the past. They're...visiting."

Jackie blinked at them. "Oh," she said, and she looked them over again.

"Who's that then?" the smaller one pointed again at Emma's stomach.

Unsure what to say, Emma touched her stomach, hoping it might provide her with answers. It was silent, but within, she could feel the baby stirring, testing the limits of his cozy confinements with his knees and elbows and feet, as he had been almost constantly for nearly 12 hours.

"It's, um..." she trailed off, and looked over at Ian.

Jackie gasped. " _Is that Ian_?"

"No -- " Ian started.

" _Yes_ ," the other Killian said.

Both girls rushed forward at once.

"Careful!" the other Killian warned loudly, taking a few steps forward, one hand out as if to stop them. "There's a baby in there. Be careful."

Evie was the first to slip her small arms around Emma's stomach and nuzzle her face into her sweater.

Jackie joined her, resting her cheek against Emma's belly. "Ian was really a baby once?" she said to her sister, and they both giggled.

Emma went completely still, not sure what to do, how to react. Killian was frozen beside her, his hand on the small of her back, his eyes locked on the two little girls hugging Emma's stomach.

The other Emma sighed. "You know, you should probably introduce yourselves first before you do that to a person."

The blonde one picked her head up. "I'm Jackie," she said.

_I know._

"Hi, Jackie," Emma said.

"I'm Evie!" said the younger one, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"Hi, Evie." She put a hand on either girl's head and hugged them close. "It's nice to meet you."

Killian gave himself a little shake, then turned to his future self. "In the unicorn horn," he said, "I thought..."

"You thought you were seeing Jackie," the other Killian said. "I know. I thought so too. But it was Evie." Then his soft smile became a teasing one. "Evie's the only decent, well-behaved child in the whole lot." 

"Dad loves her more than me and Jackie," Ian said, but he was grinning too, and Emma got the sense that this was some sort of running joke.

"That's okay," Jackie said, smirking. "The joke's on dad. When he dies Ian and I get the Jolly Roger."

"No, no, no," the other Killian said, waving his hand and hook back and forth dismissively and shaking his head in exaggerated denial. "The Jolly's going to Evie. She's the only one I can trust not to go plundering the realms with it."

Ian and Jackie grinned at each other, and in that moment, Emma knew they were a duo, knew that Jackie was going to be just as much trouble as her brother.

"Wait," said Jackie suddenly, one eyebrow drawn down questioningly. "How come you're here?"

"Um," Emma said. She glanced at her other self, but receiving no help there, finished, "We're sort of bringing Ian back."

"Back? Wait -- _back_?" Jackie asked, then rounded on Ian. "You went on an adventure _without me_?"

"Uh, yes?" Ian answered weakly.

Jackie took two quick steps towards him and punched him in the arm.

Ian flinched and hissed in pain. "Bloody hell, I forgot how hard you punch -- OW! STOP!"

Jackie had punched him again, in the other arm. "Why did you go without me?" she demanded, fists still clenched threateningly.

"It was an accident," Ian said.

She punched him once more, squarely on the bruise that was forming from her first blow.

"What the -- _stop hitting me_!" Ian said through gritted teeth.

"Jackie," the other Emma said.

Jackie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Ian, but she stopped her assault on her brother. "You said I was your first mate," she said accusingly.

"You are. I didn't go without you on purpose. I..." His voice faltered and his shoulders sagged. "I was gone for a long time. I missed you."

Jackie's glare faded.

"Did you miss me, too?" Evie asked.

"Duh," Ian said, but his tone lacked its usual sarcasm.

Simultaneously, Evie and Jackie hugged him, one on either side. His arms went around them and he bowed his head. His face crumpled, like he might cry, but Emma saw him bite his lip and clamp down on his tears.

"What was it like?" Jackie asked.

"Different," Ian said. "Weird, sometimes. Henry was a kid. Uncle Neal was a baby. Mom and dad still kissed all the time, though. It was gross."

The girls giggled again. Emma liked their giggles. It was like they shared one laugh. She could tell they were best friends, and she could tell they both adored Ian, and he them.

It made her heart swell, this little family -- her and Killian's little family.

"Hey!" Evie said suddenly, whipping around and grabbing Emma's hand. "You have to come see my room!"

"Mine too!" Jackie added, brightening immediately. She took Emma's other hand.

Emma looked back once to see Killian's tender, indulgent smile, then she followed the girls up the stairs to the second floor.

"This one's mine!" Evie announced, and led Emma into the nursery.

"Wow," Emma said. The walls were a soft, pale gray; similar to the color they had used for Ian's nursery, except warmer, somehow. One wall was painted to look like a grove of white trees with flowering branches. Pale pink petals hung along the boughs and drifted slowly towards the ground.

"Dad and Ian did it!" Evie exclaimed. "It makes me feel like I'm outside."

"Evie likes nature stuff," Jackie provided.

Emma noted a few small framed watercolor drawings of birds and butterflies, and a heap of books on the bed exclusively devoted to wildlife photography.

"Look at these!"

Evie pulled Emma over to a long, low dresser. Atop it was a row of shadow boxes: some held dried flowers -- she recognized a buttercup, an iris, a forget-me-not, and one she was pretty sure was a snowdrop -- and several others that were filled with seashells, sand dollars, sea urchins, starfish, coral, and one with a tiny seahorse.

"Me and you collected these," she said, pointing to the shadow box filled with seashells.

"What about the flowers?"

"Dad gets them for me from his garden."

Killian and a garden.

Now _that_ she needed to see.

"Ok, come see my room now!" Jackie said, and started tugging Emma from the nursery and down the hallway.

They went to another bedroom tucked into the back corner of the second floor. It had a sloping ceiling and two large windows that faced the sea. They were open, allowing a faint, sweet-smelling breeze into the room.

The walls were aqua, and the curtains and the bedspread were yellow polka-dotted. In one corner was a bookshelf so full that Jackie had started stacking books in piles next to and around it. There were posters of hockey players on the wall -- both men and women -- along with some of horses, and others of cartoon characters Emma didn't recognize. On the bed was a pile of stuffed animals, and next to the bed on the nightstand were more small frames holding dried flowers pressed behind glass.

Emma grinned.

_Flowers for his princesses._

"You have some flowers, too," Emma said.

Jackie shrugged. "Just the yellow ones."

"And you play hockey?" Emma asked, gesturing at the walls.

"Yea," she said. "I'm going to be better than Ian one day."

Emma knew she wasn't bragging; she was making a promise.

Emma turned away from the room to look at her girls. Jackie was a lot like her. She had that fire inside her, just below the surface, the fire that screamed: _This is who I am; this is what I want to do; and nobody's going to stop me_. But beneath Jackie's tough exterior, Emma saw the marshmallow sweetness on the inside. She was a girl who had grown up loved by all those around her, and she loved her family just as fiercely as they loved her, even if she kept it hidden sometimes.

And _Evie_. Evie was gentle, sweet, and sensitive. She may not be boisterous or brash like the other two, but Emma knew she had the same strength, the same fire and _toughness_ as Ian and Jackie.

Carefully, Emma knelt. She took the girls' hands in her own, and smiled at them. "I'm really happy I got to meet you guys," she said.

"Can you stay?" Evie asked. The hope in her eyes was like a physical blow to Emma.

Jackie looked at Evie, and then at Emma, and Emma knew she understood what Emma's answer would be, what it _had_ to be.

"No, we can't stay. I'm sorry," Emma said. "We have to go back home."

Evie's lower lip jutted out sadly, but she nodded. Emma pulled them both into a hug. She felt their hands threading in her hair, and their noses against her neck.

"You guys are too cute, you know that?" she said quietly.

"We know," Evie said.

"That's why dad lets us get away with stuff he doesn't let Ian get away with," Jackie said.

Emma started laughing.

"Hey, speaking of your brother, why don't you show me Ian's room, too?"

"It probably smells bad," Jackie said, and her and Evie shared another giggle.

They waited patiently while she levered herself back to her feet, then led her down the hallway to Ian's room. In the past, it was still Henry's room, and it was pretty sparse -- Henry hadn't lived in it long enough for it to accumulate the clutter of his daily life. As Ian's room, it was filled.

The walls were pale blue, of course, and covered with hockey posters and maps -- Emma saw star charts and sea charts, a map she thought might be of the Enchanted Forest, and a map of Storybrooke hanging over a desk that was littered with comics, sketchbooks and colored pencils. There was a telescope on a stand next to the window, model pirate ships on various surfaces all around the room, books and more comics scattered everywhere, some hockey sticks in the corner and one lone hockey skate lying in the middle of the floor amongst some discarded shirts and socks.

It was...Ian. It was definitely Ian.

"Alright," Emma said, shaking her head in amusement and smiling to herself. "Let's go back downstairs."

-

Killian had watched Emma be pulled away by the two little girls that looked like her, taken up the stairs past the school photos of their smiling children that adorned the wall, past the glittery pink sneakers that lay haphazardly on the landing.

This whole thing felt like stepping into a dream -- some idyllic vision of the future.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" the other Killian asked him.

He was gazing idly around, as if just noticing for the first time all the same things Killian was seeing: the children's drawings taped to the fridge, the homework opened on the kitchen table, the laundry basket next to the basement door filled with a tumble of t-shirts printed with flowers and rainbows and ponies, a the worn, stuffed red octopus on the couch that someone had put an eye-patch on.

"I didn't ever think that -- " Killian started

"That something like this could be ours?" the other Killian interjected. "That we could ever be this happy?"

"Aye," Killian said, nodding.

Him and Emma and Ian and two little girls. Him and Emma and a house filled with light and love and laughter. Him and Emma with rings on their fingers...

He looked at his other self. The wedding band was on his right hand. On his left...

The hook.

The other Killian saw him looking, but he was silent, waiting.

Killian nodded towards his other self's hook, and tried to sound casual as he said, "I see we don't get our hand back, then."

Ian's head whipped around, and the other Killian gave him a stern glare that was clearly meant as a warning. Then the other Killian looked back at him and said, "Well...whether or not we get our hand back is entirely up to you."

"Hey!" the other Emma said sharply. "Don't influence him. Let him make his own decision."

Future Killian sighed. "My wife informs me that I should let you make your own choices," he said. Then he lowered his voice, and Killian recognized the mischievous glint in his eye. "However, there is something to be said for the ability to hold your children with _two_ hands."

The other Emma rolled her eyes and turned her head away, but Killian saw her smile.

"Oh, and change their diapers," Ian added.

"Aye, that. And tie their ice skates."

"And pick your nose."

"No, I can do that one-handed."

Ian and the other Killian grinned at each other.

"Alright, are you three done changing the timeline?" the other Emma asked.

"Oh, that sort of reminds me," Ian said, and started fumbling at his shirt collar. He pulled Liam's ring from beneath his sweater, slipped the chain over his head, and held it out towards Killian. "Here."

Killian looked at Liam's ring, dangling there, catching the sunlight streaming in through the front door. He'd carried that ring for so long. He'd given it to Ian without hesitation, and at the beginning he'd felt its absence, but now...

"Keep it," he said, pushing Ian's hand away. "It's yours."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye. Your mother and I gave it to you to keep you safe, and frankly I'm not convinced you don't need it anymore."

Cheeks pink, Ian put the necklace back on and tucked the ring safely back into his shirt.

The other Killian shook his head in amazement. "All these years, I thought I'd lost the damned thing."

"Do you want it back?" Ian asked, once more reaching towards his collar.

"No, lad. You heard me," he said, winking. "It's exactly where it belongs."

There were footsteps on the stairs, and then Emma and the two little ones came into view. As soon as Emma was safely at the bottom, they dropped her hands and ran to him, green eyes shining with excitement.

"Dad! You have to come see our rooms too!" said Jackie.

She was an exact copy of Emma, but with freckles sprinkled across her face like the stars in the night sky. The other ( _Evie_ ) was Jackie with a little bit of Killian thrown in -- a more oval face, jet black eyebrows, long, dark lashes.

They were...they were _perfect_.

Future Killian glared and said stiffly, " _I'm_ your dad."

Killian floundered, looking back and forth between the two little girls and his other self. "If you don't want me to...I don't have to..."

The other Killian looked at him in disgust, and said, "Shut up and go see their rooms, you idiot."

Evie took his hook and Jackie took his hand, and together they pulled him by the arms out of the hallway and upstairs, where they proudly showed him the artifacts of their lives.

Evie told him that the seashells inside one of the shadow boxes had been collected by her and Emma together one summer. She'd been too afraid to go into the water, so while the others swam, her and Emma combed the beach.

"Are you still afraid of the water?" he asked.

"No," she said, crinkling her nose at him in a smile. "You taught me how to swim, so I'm not scared anymore."

 In Jackie's room, she showed him the series of books she was reading about girls who played sports.

"This one's my favorite," she said, holding one up for his inspection. "It's a true story. It's about Amanda Kessel. She played in the Olympics and the NWHL and her brother plays too -- in the NHL -- but she's better than him and I wanna be just like her!"

"I want to be an ornithologist!" Evie said.

Killian chuckled. "I have no idea what that is, but I have a feeling both of you are going to be exactly whoever you want to be, one day."

They were still holding onto his hand and his hook, grinning up at sweetly with dimples in their cheeks and complete adoration in their eyes, and he just...he couldn't...

He dropped to his knees and pulled them into a hug. Two sets of little arms went around his neck, and two little faces snuggled into his shoulders.

"The other mom said you can't stay," Jackie said into his jacket collar.

He turned his head and kissed her hair, then did the same to Evie.

"Aye, little loves, I'm afraid she's right. We must leave soon."

Jackie leaned back, out of his arms a little.  She looked disappointed, but determined not to show it.

"Do you want to see Ian's room?" she asked.

"Of course," Killian said.

-

Emma wandered into the front room, pulled as if by magnetism to the framed photos she saw, but suddenly she caught herself and stopped.

"Um, can I?" she asked her future self. "Do you mind?"

The other Emma snorted. "This is your house. Go wherever you want."

The pictures were mostly of the kids, with some of her parents and Neal and Belle and the twins thrown in. There was one of Henry with Ian as a toddler. Ian was crawling all over Henry, and Henry was smiling indulgently. There were many from the beach, clearly taken over a series of years of the kids at various ages, playing in the sand and the water. There were a few of both Ian and Jackie in hockey gear, smiling triumphantly with medals around their necks or trophies in their hands. There was one of Evie as a toddler sitting in a flowerbed, her entire face engulfed by a giant purple hibiscus.

She stopped and laughed when she came across one of Killian and a 2-year-old Ian at the wheel of the Jolly Roger. Both were wearing sunglasses, but Ian's were comically large. Right beside it was another of Ian, this one clearly taken sometime before he turned one. He was sitting on the rug in his pajamas, grinning up at the camera with sparkly blue eyes. He had a full head of pale blonde hair, and two teeth sticking out of his bottom gums.

"Damn," Emma said. "He's cute."

"Just wait. You have _no_ idea," the other Emma said from beside her.

Emma moved on, and found a photo of Ian and Jackie at the hospital, holding a newborn Jackie between them. Ian looked ecstatic, but Jackie was clearly not pleased.

"I thought Evie and Jackie seemed like they get along..." Emma said.

"They do," the other Emma answered. "They're best friends. They just...weren't at first."

Killian joined them, leaning over his Emma's shoulder to examine the photo they were both looking at. "Ah. Aye, Jackie was less than happy with her new sister. She protested Evie's existence by sleeping in our bed every night for an entire _year_."

"I think she was trying to stop us having any more kids," the other Emma said.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and Killian returned with the girls. He was smiling happily, still holding onto their hands like he intended to never let go.

"Hey," Ian said suddenly, looking around. "Where's Bonny?"

"Is Bonny another...do we have another...?" Killian asked, eyes wide, looking between future Emma and future Killian.

"No, trust me, these three are enough, mate," the other Killian said, and winked.

"Bonny's my dog," Ian said.

"Bonny's _our_ dog," Jackie corrected, hands on her hips.

"Fine. _Our_ dog. Where is she?"

"Uncle Will's got her," Jackie answered.

"You know, he should just get his own dog."

"That's what I keep sayin'."

"Hey, girls?" the other Emma asked. Jackie and Evie both looked at her. "Can you guys do me a favor? Can you both go upstairs for ten minutes?"

Jackie looked like she was about to argue, but the other Emma added, "Please? Ten minutes, Jacks."

Jackie rolled her eyes but obeyed, and Evie followed suit. When they were alone again, Emma turned to her and Killian's future selves, and said, "Now are you going to tell us why you brought us here?"

She knew, of course -- she'd put it together by now, but she wanted to _hear_ it.

Killian slipped his arm around her waist, and she knew he knew too. His body was a solid, comforting warmth against her side. She put her hand over his, and drew it a little closer, so that his fingers brushed her bump.

"We're showing you what you're protecting by casting the Memory Curse," the other Killian said. He was standing side-by-side with Emma, their joined hands held between them.

"Because I know you've been thinking about not doing it," the other Emma added.

Emma shook her head, looked at Ian. "I don't want to forget him."

"Do you love him?" the other Emma asked quietly.

"Yes," Emma answered immediately, without taking her eyes off Ian.

"Do you love Jackie and Evie?"

Emma looked over at the staircase. There was movement, just at the top -- someone pulling their head out of sight. She smiled. She looked back at her other self and knew that the other Emma was also aware the girls were eavesdropping.

"Yes," Emma said. "I do."

"Then you need to cast the Memory Curse."

"Mom," Ian said. "Please. I don't want you to forget me either, but you have to."

"And it won't be permanent," the other Killian said. "The forgetting is only temporary."

Emma sighed. "And then one day we'll be in your place, convincing our past selves to do what we already did."

"Aye."

Those girls...if Emma and Killian didn't forget, those girls might not exist. Emma thought about the way the girls had looked at her, the way the other Killian had looked at them, the way they teased Ian...

Emma didn't want a future without all that. Without them.

"Okay," she said. "We'll cast the Memory Curse."

The other Emma nodded, unsurprised. "Alright, now let's take care of Zelena, and then we'll get you guys back to the past so you can have that baby."

-

The seven of them piled into the yellow bug and drove to the station. Future Emma drove, while Emma sat in the passenger seat, and the two Killians sat in the back on either side of Ian, with the girls perched in their laps.

"I can't believe you still have this thing," Emma said.

"Of course we still have it. It would be easier to fit everyone in the SUV, but we left it in town."

Main Street hadn't changed much. Emma saw a few new stores -- a bookstore, toy shop, a store with sports equipment, a cute little coffee house -- but otherwise it looked the same.

They drove by Granny's and The Crow's Nest. Hanging over the door to The Crow's Nest was a pub sign with gold lettering and a gold silhouette of a ship with its mast surrounded by crows in flight.

"It's doing fairly well," the other Killian said, catching his younger self's gaping expression.

"It's doing _very_ well," the other Emma corrected, glancing at her husband in the rear view mirror. "He's just being modest."

Standing in front was Belle, and beside her were two teenagers.

"Is that...are those?" Emma asked.

Ian gasped, startling them all. "I might be as tall as Enzo now," he said. "Mom! Pull over!"

"I can't right now -- " the other Emma responded.

"Ian, what are you -- "

There were a few shouts of "Hey!" from small voices, and then future Killian gave a loud grunt of pain. Emma craned around. The two girls had their hands clamped over their mouths, trying not to laugh. Ian was half in his seat, half across the other Killian's lap. The other Killian's eyes were squeezed shut, his knees were clamped together, and his hand was clenched in a tight, shaking fist on his thigh.

"Sorry, dad," Ian was saying. "I'm sorry. You don't -- I mean, you don't exactly need those anymore, right?"

"I suppose not," the other Killian said in a strangled voice. "It's a good thing it was _me_ you got and not the _other_ me, else you might not have any sisters."

When they pulled up to the station, the other Killian was on the side of the car against the curb, but he made no move to get out.

"You're going to have to go the other way," he said, voice still hoarse. "I don't think I can move at the moment."

Emma followed Ian and her other self into the station. Killian was beside her with Jackie on one hand and Evie holding his hook. Evie's other hand held one of Emma's. Behind them trailed the other Killian, limping slightly.

Inside the entrance hall, two teenagers -- a boy with dark hair that flopped over his forehead and flared around his ears, and a girl with thick, tawny waves -- were sitting on a bench with their heads together, arguing over a stack of papers.

Suddenly, the girl elbowed the boy hard in the ribs and said, "Stop hogging the pages, Neal."

The boy scowled but complied. The sound of the door closing caused both of them to look up. The boy was Neal. Even if Emma hadn't seen him in Ian's dreams she would know this was her brother: he looked like Mary Margaret, from the eyes to the cheekbones to the ears.

"Finally," Neal said, rolling his eyes. "We've been waiting forever. They said we couldn't go in until you got here." He was holding what Emma recognized as pages from Henry's storybook, and Emma caught a glimpse of a illustration that clearly showed Ian grappling with Mordred in the barn the night he'd gotten stabbed through the hand.

The girl was Rowan. She jumped from the bench as soon as saw them and ran directly to Ian.

"Is it true?" she asked. "Did you really just do all those things?"

Speechless, Ian just nodded, staring at her as if he'd never seen her before -- or, hadn't seen her in a long time.

Rowan looked him up and down. "You're taller," she said. "And your hair's different." Then she grabbed Ian's left hand and brought it closer to her face for inspection, examining the scar. Ian watched her, blushing.

Suddenly, he took a deep breath that seemed to bring him to his senses, and he blurted, "Will you go to the dance with me?"

She looked up at him sharply and dropped his hand. She folded her arms over her chest, and said, "What took you so long?"

Ian's mouth dropped open. "Uh..."

"I've been waiting _forever_ ," Rowan continued. "Do you know how many times I had to tell Philip no? You owe me for that."

"What's wrong with Philip?" Neal asked indignantly.

"Philip's an idiot," Rowan said over her shoulder, then turned back to Ian. "Well? What took you so long?"

"I, uh...I didn't know if -- "

"You didn't know if what? If I _liked_ you?"

"Well, yea."

Rowan's eyes grew large until they were nearly bugging out of her head. "Ian. I kissed you on Christmas."

"I know, but -- "

"Oh my God," she said. " _Oh my God_. Are you an idiot too? Why would I kiss you if I didn't like you?"

Then she realized everyone was listening in and stopped.

"No, no," the other Killian said with a grin. "Go ahead, lass. I'm rather enjoying this conversation."

"It was _just_ getting interesting," Killian added.

"If you'd like us to leave..."

"If you two wanted to, for instance, _kiss_ , we could -- "

"Dad and dad," Ian said, whirling around and glaring. " _Stop_." Then he turned back to Rowan. "I'm sorry my dad -- _dads_ \-- are the worst."

"They're not the worst," Rowan said, smiling softly. "They just really love you." She was silent, watching Ian. Then her expression grew sad. "I'm sorry for what my mom -- for what Zelena did to you."

"You don't have to apologize for her."

Rowan shrugged. "I feel like I should. She came here for me. And she hurt you."

"It's fine," Ian said, shaking his head firmly. "I'm fine."

"Do you still want to, you know..." Rowan paused and bit her lip. "Be my friend and, I dunno, go to the dance with me after everything my crazy bio-mom just did to you?"

" _Yes_ ," Ian said, then he leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

" _Ew_!" Jackie and Neal said, but Evie was smiling and giggling like it was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

Rowan's arms unfolded, and her hands fell to her sides. They twitched for a moment, hesitant, then darted up to wrap themselves in Ian's sweater, pulling his mouth more firmly against hers.

"Okay, time to go," the other Emma said quickly, and she and Emma started bustling both Killians through the door. They resisted, both trying to watch, foolish grins plastered on their faces, but Emma and her future self pushed them through the doorway.

Just before they passed into the office, the other Emma said over her shoulder, "Just keep your tongues inside your own mouths, please. You're 13."

"And hands above the waist," Emma added.

One of the Killians _tsk_ ed. "You're taking all the fun out of it for them, Swan -- my apologies, _Swans_."

"Keep movin'," Emma growled, and shot them a glare that encompassed both their smugly smirking faces.

-

Zelena was in a cell, still frozen, still snarling at them. Gathered on the other side of the bars, perched on the couch, chairs, and desks, were Regina and Robin, David and Mary Margaret, Lancelot, and a tall young man with broad shoulders, a beard, and curly, dark hair who looked vaguely familiar.

"Mordred!" the other Killian said.

The young man turned and grinned, flashing his teeth.

"We didn't know you were coming back!" the other Emma said.

Mordred shrugged. "Henry told me to, so I did. Now I understand why."

"You didn't have to come back for this," the other Emma said.

"Yes, I did," he said calmly. "I helped bring her here, and I helped her do terrible things. Now, I shall help bring her to justice, and then I can finally return to Camelot. It's time."

"Is Lancelot going too?" David asked.

"I'm afraid not," Lancelot said. "I have responsibilities here." Emma noted the ring on his finger, and wondered if there was a matching one on Belle's hand. "Gawyn is there. He'll stand at your side."

He clapped Mordred fondly on the shoulder, and Mordred nodded.

Mary Margaret motioned Emma towards a sturdy looking chair.

"Sit down, sit down," she said. "You need to rest."

She helped Emma ease down into the chair, and Emma shifted a bit, trying to find the least uncomfortable position. The baby was sleeping, which meant she didn't have anything poking her internal organs at the moments, but he was still so _heavy_.

"You look good Emma," Mary Margaret said, smiling warmly at her.

Emma snorted. "Mom. I'm a million weeks pregnant. I look, walk, and feel like a T-Rex that swallowed another, bigger T-Rex."

"Yes, but you're a _stunning_ T-Rex, love," said the other Killian with a saucy wink. Emma saw Lancelot and Mordred turn their faces away to hide grins.

Robin greeted her with a kiss on her cheek, and a hearty, "Good to see you again, Emma. And you too, Killian." He shook Killian's hand, then returned to stand beside Regina.

Killian propped himself against the desk just behind her. His hand touched her shoulder briefly, brushed her hair away from her neck, and then disappeared, but Emma felt him standing there. Evie slid into her lap, her small frame just fitting in the space not taken up by Emma's gigantic belly. She leaned into Emma slightly, and reflexively Emma began playing with her long curls.

The other Emma saw and smiled, then turned to Regina. "You ready?" she asked.

"Where's Rowan?" Regina asked, looking around.

"Here," said Rowan's voice from the door. She and Ian entered the office side-by-side. Regina looked suspiciously between them, eyes narrowed. Robin and the two Killians shared grins, which they quickly stifled when Regina shifted her gaze to them.

Mary Margaret cleared her throat. "Ok, we're all here. Let's get this over with."

Regina reluctantly tore her eyes away from Rowan and Ian. Rowan joined Regina standing before Zelena's cell. She walked with her chin held high, pretending she didn't notice Regina's disapproval. Ian slid onto a desk in between Neal and Jackie. He was blushing furiously with his eyes fixed on the floor. He glanced up once, and Emma saw Robin wink at him from behind Regina's back before turning back to face Zelena.

"Everybody brace yourselves," Regina said. She took a deep breath, then waved her hand in a wide arc.

Zelena came to life with a deafening shriek of anger and pain. Evie jumped in her lap and gave a little shuddering gasp of fear. Emma's arms went around her immediately.

"It's okay," she soothed, swaying back and forth slightly. "You're okay. I've got you."

Killian came forward and put his hand on Evie's head, pulled his fingers through her curls.

"It's alright, lass," he said in a low voice.

Evie nodded, but she leaned into Emma more.

Across the room, Jackie had grabbed onto Ian's arm with both hands. She was staring at Zelena with a mixture of alarm and revulsion. Ian ducked his head and was whispering in her ear, until finally she relaxed her grip. The other Emma and Killian had moved closer to their two children and Neal, protectively.

Zelena glowered at them all with wild eyes. " _How dare you!_ " she screamed.

"Don't even start with that privileged 'I deserve this, I deserve that, how dare you' bullshit," Regina spat. "You deserve worse, and you're lucky you didn't get it."

Rowan leaned towards Regina and tugged on her sleeve. "Mom," she said quietly, eyeing the arrows jutting from Zelena's shoulder. "How long has she been like that?"

"A few hours," Regina said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"I think that's enough," Rowan said. Regina looked at her, then nodded. She waved her hand again, and the arrows and the knife disappeared.

"Thank you, Rowan," Zelena said.

"Don't talk to her," Robin snarled. " _Don't you even say her name_."

"Dad," Rowan said evenly, "It's fine."

Zelena turned back to Rowan. "Tell them to let me go, sweet -- "

"Shut up," Rowan said, and Zelena froze, her eyes going wide. "You hurt my friends and my family. You tried to kidnap me -- "

"Yes, but -- "

"But _nothing_. This is my home. This is where I belong. You had no right to try and take me."

"But I _love_ you -- "

"You don't even _know_ me. You don't _want_ to know me. You just want a...a _pet_."

"That's not true!"

But Rowan stared back, implacable. "My mom's right. You deserve much worse than a few arrows," Rowan said. "From what I've seen so far, you don't deserve another chance."

Zelena's seemed to collapse in upon herself at Rowan's words, at the way she referred to Regina as "mom".

"But we're going to give you one anyway," Regina said, resentment and unwillingness clear in her voice.

"Because our daughter wishes it," Robin said. "We'll allow you to stay."

Hope stole across Zelena's face.

"We have a few conditions though," Rowan said.

Zelena was silent, waiting, waiting for Rowan to pass judgment, deliver her terms.

"If you want to stay here, you need to give up your magic."

Zelena looked horrified. "But, Without my magic, I'm -- "

"Nothing," the other Emma said. "Yea, we know."

"But, Rowan, dear -- you have magic, too! Don't you want me to be like you? Don't you want your mother to have magic like you do?"

"My mother does have magic like me," Rowan said, and she tilted her head slightly towards Regina. "And even if she didn't, she'd still be my mother, and I'd still love her. Because _she_ loves _me_ , for who I am. She doesn't try to change me to be someone she wants me to be." Rowan approached the bars, grasped them between her hands. "She loves my father, and she loves my friends and my family, and _she'd never try to hurt them_."

The other Emma stepped in, and Rowan backed away from the cell, returned to Regina's side.

"We're giving you a choice to have a relationship with your daughter, Zelena," future Emma said. "And I know you're thinking it's not what you wanted, that you missed her entire childhood... but do you know what's worse that missing your kid's childhood?"

She paused, waited for Zelena to look at her, to acknowledge her.

"Missing their whole life," the other Emma said.

"And that's what will happen if you don't agree to give up your magic," Robin said. "You'll miss Rowan's entire life."

"What's your decision?" Rowan asked.

Zelena lifted her face, and there were tears streaming down her green cheeks. "Yes!" she sobbed. "Yes, I'll do it. I want to know you!"

The faintest crease appeared between Rowan's eyebrows as she watched Zelena completely break down, but she made no effort to comfort her.

"Mommy," Evie said tremulously, turning around in Emma's lap. Her lower lip was wobbling. "I don't like the green lady. She's scary."

"I know, babe," Emma said, pulling Evie's head down onto her shoulder. "I know she's scary. But you're safe. Your dad and I will always protect you. You know that, right?"

Evie nodded. Emma loved holding her little girl, liked having her safe and snug against her chest, but she was pressing down painfully on her belly. Killian must have seen her discomfort, because he swooped in immediately.

"Come here, lass," he said, and reached down to ease Evie off of Emma and into his arms. "You're safe, little love. You're safe. Your...your daddy's got you."

Evie clung to him with her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, trusting him as she'd just trusted Emma -- with her whole heart.

"Oi, mate!" said the other Killian, suddenly appearing next to his younger self. "That's my daughter you're trying to steal. Give her back!" He reached in one-handed and started tickling Evie, and the girl was giggling and squirming, curling further into Killian's arms, pretending to resist, all her fears forgotten in the blink of an eye.

The other Emma joined them. "Hey," she said gently. "We gotta go. We have to get them back to the time portal."

The other Killian looked at her, then at the clock, then at Emma. As his eyes met hers, Emma felt a contraction, low and dull in her belly.

She hissed in surprise. She hadn't felt a contraction since she'd almost gone into pre-term labor. Instead of fading, the pain grew in intensity, radiating along her back and down her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut and grasped the edge of her chair with both hands.

"Emma?" her Killian asked.

Emma just shook her head, sucking in a long, deep breath. She heard Killian put Evie down, and then he was kneeling next to her chair, his voice low and urgent in her ear. "Emma," he said. "Emma, I'm here."

His fingers brushed her knuckles, and she turned her hand into his and gripped it with every ounce of strength she had.

"Is mom okay?" Evie asked.

"Everything's fine, lass. Don't worry."

"What's happening?" that was Jackie's voice.

The other Killian sighed. "Your brother just decided it's time to be born, that's all."

-

They said their goodbyes in a rush. The girls hugged her gently and kissed her belly for good luck, then attacked Killian with hugs and kisses.

"Alright, alright, you heathens," the other Killian said, pulling the girls off his younger self. "Leave a man be. We need to leave. Be good for your grandparents, aye?"

The walk to the car was an ordeal -- walking seemed to make the contractions worse -- but the drive to the farm was a blur, and it seemed like two minutes rather than twenty passed before they were back in the barn.

The two Henrys were waiting for them.

"How did it go?" the older Henry asked.

"Zelena is losing her magic as we speak," the other Emma answered.

"So that's it?" Henry asked. "Everybody's safe? Everything's back to normal?"

"About as normal as Storybrooke gets, yea," the other Henry answered.

"Um, mom, are you okay?" Henry asked.

"Nope," Emma said shortly. "Baby's coming. Gotta go."

With a wave of her hand, the other Emma ripped open the gash in the air that was the contained time portal, and brought it roaring back to life.

"Henry," she said. "Do you have the Memory Curse?"

Henry reached a hand into his coat and pulled out the small vial of yellow-gold liquid. Future Emma touched her finger to the glass, and it glowed.

"Okay," she said, withdrawing her hand. "Now you won't remember visiting the future, either."

Henry tucked it away again.

Emma heard the two Killians talking in low voices a few feet away, and looked around to see Killian nodding vigorously.

"Now," said the other Killian, "you're in for a treat because Ian was a very calm, happy infant. However, if he's crying and he won't calm down when you sing to him, that means he's either hungry, or he's sick; either way, get him to Emma as fast as you can."

"Killian," Emma called. "We gotta go."

She tried to smile, but it was difficult with the ferocious ache in her back and belly. Killian saw her in pain, and raced to her side.

"I'm sorry, love, you're right. We must leave."

With his hook arm at her back, and one of her hands gripped tightly in his to steady her, he helped her towards the time portal.

"Mom. Dad."

They turned back, into Ian, who had rushed forward into their arms. They hugged him between them. Emma rested her cheek on his head and fisted her hands in his shirt.

"I don't want to say goodbye," she told him.

"Me either," he said, and Emma could tell he was crying.

"We love you, Ian," Killian said.

"I love you guys, too," he said. He pulled his head up, and there were tears pouring down his cheeks. "I'm gonna miss you."

Emma stroked his hair. "We're gonna miss you, too."

He nodded, swallowed hard, took a deep, shuddering breath, and stepped back.

"There's one more thing I need to tell you," he said.

"What is it, lad?"

"I lied to you," he said, biting his lip. "I told you I was born in the hospital. But I lied. I wasn't."

"Wait, what?" Emma asked.

"I'm sorry," the other Emma said, and waved her arm.

Emma and Killian were lifted from their feet and thrown backwards. Emma had just enough time to grab Henry and Killian's hands, and then they were in the time portal.

-

The time portal was a whirlwind. Emma felt jerked every way at once. On either side, Killian and Henry's bodies crashed into hers, one moment pushed close, the other pulled far apart, and it was all she could do to hold on, to keep them with her.

 _Home_ , she kept thinking. _Home_.

She pictured the barn; she pictured the stormy, March 1st afternoon they'd come from; she pictured her dad, pacing the barn, waiting for them to return; she pictured the baby's nursery, with his crib ready and waiting for him; she pictured her mom there, packing a bag for the hospital...

 _Home_.

-

As soon as Emma's boots hit the ground again, she both felt and heard a pop -- like a water balloon breaking inside her.

" _Shit_ ," Emma swore. She felt liquid trickling down between her legs, and as hard as she tried, she couldn't stop it.

She let go of Henry and Killian's hands and pressed her own against the bottom of her stomach.

"You're back!" she heard her dad say.

"Emma, love, what is it?" Killian asked. His hand joined hers over her belly.

"Killian," she said, looking up at him. Normally his blue eyes calmed her, but right now _nothing_ could stop the fear building inside her. "Killian, my water just broke."


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last real chapter; the next will be the epilogue and then...this story will be finished.
> 
> (*runs away and cries*)

_13 years ago_

Emma paced her cell. Her entire body felt wracked by the pain radiating from her back and spreading around to her abdomen and down her legs. She wasn't sure if walking helped her cramps ( _contractions_ ) or made them worse, but moving helped keep her mind off it, at least.

She'd had contractions before -- the prison doctor had said she'd experience Braxton Hicks contractions as her body prepared for labor -- but this...this felt different.

"C'mon, buddy," she whispered. "Chill out in there."

And then realization shuddered through her: that was the first time she'd ever talked to the baby.

 _Stop_ , she told herself. _Don't do that to yourself. Don't do that to him._

Her life, this situation...the baby didn't deserve that. It wasn't his fault.

Emma continued pacing, taking long, deep breaths.

The pain seemed to ease for a second, but just as she was beginning to relax, she felt a strange popping in her stomach and a trickle of liquid between her legs.

" _Shit_!" she swore. "Shit, shit, shit!"

She was going into labor.

_Alone._

-

One of the prison nurses held her hand through the worst pain Emma had ever experienced in her life. It seemed like it would never end, like it would go on and on for eternity, just an endless cycle of waxing and waning agony.

The doctor and the nurses talked to her, told her what was happening, told her what to do, but she only heard it faintly, as if their voices were speaking from a great distance.

She felt isolated.

And then, when the the pain was finally gone, she felt empty.

She heard crying, but she turned away from it.

If she looked, she might change her mind. If she looked, her son would lose his best chance at having a good life, a better life.

"Emma," the doctor said. His voice was muffled from his surgical mask. "Just so you know, you _can_ change your mind."

She shook her head.

 _No, I can't_.

She _wanted_ to -- his crying was sending jolts through her, and she longed to comfort him, to hold him in her arms, to rest her cheek against his...

But she couldn't.

She had to give him up.

For him. For her son.

 

* * *

 

_Now_

"Your water broke," Killian said blankly, as if not certain what exactly that meant.

" _Yes_!" she hissed, and barely resisted the urge to swear. The trickle down her thighs had become a flood.

"Your water just broke," he repeated. Then he turned to David, eyes impossibly wide. " _Her water just broke_!"

Another contraction hit her, and Emma closed her eyes and started counting.

30...

35...

40...

45...

45 seconds.

 _Fuck_.

That was too long.

 The lights in the barn began blinking erratically.

"We need to get you to the hospital!" David said, and he stepped forward to take one of her elbows.

"Aye," Killian said, and took her other arm.

"No," Emma said, and firmly planted her feet, resisting Killian and David's efforts to carry her bodily from the barn.

"But-" said Killian.

" _No_ ," she said again. "We have to cast the Memory Curse first."

"That can wait, love."

"It _can't_ wait. We said we'd do it, and now we have to do it."

Killian made a face, like he was straining.

"Look, I've had a baby before," Emma said. "He's not gonna slide outta me within the next ten minutes."

Although, judging by the contractions, this definitely wasn't going to last long.

"We have time. We can make it."

"She's right," David admitted reluctantly, but he didn't look happy about it.

"Dad, can you meet us at the hospital?"

David nodded, but he didn't move. He tore his eyes from Emma to look at Killian pleadingly.

"I've got her, mate," Killian said. "Don't worry."

"What about Henry?" David asked.

"He's coming with. He has to cast the Curse."

David hesitated, licked his lips and grimaced. Emma wanted to scream at him, but instead, she said patiently, "Dad, _please_. I'll be fine."

 He sucked in a breath through his teeth then spun on his heel and walked away, every line of his body screaming unwillingness.

"Okay," Emma said. "Okay, give me a second."

She tried to gather her magic, but it was flickering between bright and dim like the lights in the barn. One minute the threads of her and the baby's magic were lit up and sparkling like a Christmas tree, and the next, they were dim, nearly dark.

"Emma-"

"Hang on."

"Don't push yourself-"

"No, I mean _hang on_!"

She grabbed Henry's arm and Killian's jacket just as a cloud of gray-white smoke bloomed at their feet. It was a jarring ride as Emma struggled to keep a grip on her magic, and as soon as they touched ground it slid from her grasp.

Her knees buckled slightly as a contraction rippled through her abdomen, and she held still through it with Henry and Killian on either side, supporting her.

The pain was stronger, lasted longer, and left her whole body aching in its wake.

 _Too close,_ she thought frantically.

_They're too close together._

She gasped as she released the breath she'd been holding and opened her eyes. They were standing beside the Wishing Well, deep in the woods.

"Emma, are you alright?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

_No, I'm not._

"Let's just get this over with."

Henry nodded and fumbled the vial from one pocket and a rolled-up bundle of papers from his other.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes -- wait!"

His hand had been inching towards the well, but she reached out and stopped it.

This was it: this was the real farewell to Ian. She felt his absence then, and that hurt worse than saying goodbye had. She'd grown so used to having him there, next to them. She was going to miss his sunny smile and the wicked gleam he got in his eye sometimes; she'd miss the way he could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Killian and look like his twin -- from his expression to his posture -- and a second later do the same with David; she'd miss the way she'd felt connected to him by their magic.

Then she thought about what they'd seen in the future. She pictured grown-up Henry, broad-shouldered and confident; she remembered Rowan's strength as she faced down her mother; she thought of Belle's two tall twins; and then of the girls -- her and Killian's sweet girls...

She looked at Killian. "I think the future's in pretty good hands," she said.

"I'd say so, love," he said, smiling softly.

She turned to Henry and cupped his face. "Remember Ian for us?"

"I will," he said, and grinned.

"Alright," Emma said. "Do it."

Henry uncorked the vial and tipped it into the well. They watched the yellow-gold contents spill down in the darkness. Then, they waited.

"How will we know if it works?" Killian asked, after a moment.

Emma leaned over and peered downwards. Below, a huge luminescent gold cloud was blooming. As she watched, it began climbing slowly up the dark shaft of the well.

"Oh, it worked," she said simply.

The cloud rose out of the well and spilled over the sides. Emma and Killian took a few steps backwards, instinctively resisting, but then it was upon them. It washed over them, like a cool breeze.

Emma closed her eyes and held the image of Ian's face in her mind. And then, it was gone.

-

Emma blinked and looked around.

They were in the woods, by the wishing well. Some strange golden cloud was rolling away from them through the trees towards town.

_What the --_

"What the bloody hell are we doing all the way out here?" Killian asked, looking wildly around them. "What the hell is that cloud thingy?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Henry stuff something into his pocket. She turned her head, and he met her eye. There was something there, some secret he hid away carefully as she watched, but then he just shrugged and said, "I don't know."

"We were...we were just at the barn," Killian said.

Emma shook her head, trying to clear it, trying to remember. He was right. They'd just been at the barn. They'd defeated Zelena -- _barely_ \-- and then sent her back to the future through the time portal.

And now...

Emma groaned as another contraction hit her. She cupped her hands beneath her belly and gritted her teeth against the pain. Her thighs were freezing, and she realized with a jolt that it was because her jeans were wet.

 _And now I'm in labor_.

She was in labor in the middle of the goddamn woods.

 _Fuck_.

A breeze rose suddenly and tore through the area, picking up debris from the forest floor and scattering it about. Emma stumbled sideways, caught off guard by the strength of the wind. She hit Killian, who held her fast. Twigs and leaves pelted their legs and dirt stung their eyes.

"Emma, is this-?"

"It's my magic," Emma said. It was going haywire inside her, spilling out unchecked as the contraction that gripped her abdomen grew in intensity.

30...

35...

40...

45...

50...

55...

60...

_Breathe, Emma. Breathe._

"Killian, we gotta go!" she ground out.

"Ok, love. Hold on. I...I can carry you back," Killian said.

"There's no time. This baby is coming _now_!"

"Now? Emma, you've only just gone into labor-"

"I know," she gasped, and then she laughed. "This kid doesn't want to wait."

"How are -- what are we-?"

"I'm taking us to the hospital," she said.

"But, your magic-"

"It'll be fine," she said -- she _hoped_. "I can't do all three of us at once, though. Henry's going first."

"But, mom-"

"We'll be right behind you," she said, as calm as she could. "We'll meet you there."

His expression reminded her of David: reluctant yet resigned. Emma seized a tendril of her magic and bent it to her will before it could slither away again. _The hospital_ , she thought hard to herself. Henry disappeared in a plume of gray-white smoke, and then Emma turned to Killian and gripped his jacket with both hands.

Her panic was rising. She could barely think straight. She was panting, trying to resist her body's natural urges, trying to hold on to that slippery bit of magic...

 _I am not giving birth in a forest!_ she screamed inside her head.

She was going to have the baby somewhere safe.

 _Somewhere safe, somewhere safe, somewhere safe_.

_Safe with Killian._

_Somewhere safe with Killian_.

For a brief moment, her magic stopped resisting, and Emma used that window to transport them somewhere safe -- only instead of appearing in the hospital, Emma and Killian found themselves on the deck of the Jolly Roger.

Emma stared around, stunned. They were on Killian's ship and there was a storm approaching.

"Emma!" Killian yelled over the wailing wind. It was stronger here, sending the  waves crashing along the side of the ship and spraying over the deck, making the sails billow and snap like cracks of thunder.

She looked at Killian. She was terrified. This isn't what she meant. This wasn't where she meant to take them.

"Emma," Killian said again. "We can't be here. We need to go to the hospital."

All her magic was rushing out of her, like water released from a dam. She had no control over it. Not anymore. It just fled in a never-ending stream, and no matter how hard she tried to catch it, to hold it and use it, she couldn't.

"Killian, I -- I can't."

He shook his head, uncomprehending.

"This is it," she said. "We're having the baby here."

-

Killian looked to the west. The storm that had been over the barn was moving towards them. He saw lightning dancing in the clouds, and even over the wind he heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.

 _The baby_.

They were going to have the baby on his ship in the middle of a storm.

"We have to get below," he said, and started helping Emma towards the hatch. What should have been a gradual, careful process was expedited by the urgency of the moment and by their fear, and within seconds they were safely within the Captain's Quarters.

Killian led Emma to the bed and settled her amongst the pillows, then removed his phone from his pocket and dialed David. After several failed attempts, he ripped the phone away from his ear and snarled, "There's no bloody reception!"

"Send a text," Emma said, in between the long, deep breaths she was taking. She was rubbing her belly in slow, circular motions, but her brow was creased and her teeth were gritted against the pain. "When you get reception, it will go through on its own."

Killian typed out _SOS Jolly Roger Emma having baby_ , selected everyone on his contact list, hit send, then tossed the phone aside.

"Okay," he said, trying to calm himself, trying to get his bearings. "Okay. We're having this baby on the ship."

"Yea," Emma said with a faint chuckle. Her head was bowed, her eyes were half-closed, and sweat beaded her brow.

"Okay," he said again.

"Towels," Emma said. "Blankets."

"Right. Towels and blankets."

He leapt into motion just as rain began lashing the windows. He pulled all the clean linens he possessed from their hiding places all around the cabin. He even found his old long leather coat tucked away and pulled it out as well, just in case. He dragged the table to the side of the bunk and laid everything down upon it, then ducked and pressed a swift kiss to Emma's forehead before dashing off again. He ransacked the suitcases and the diaper bag in the corner, collecting anything that even remotely resembled a towel or a blanket, and deposited those alongside the rest.

Then he turned to Emma. "Alright, let's get you settled, love."

Together, they stripped her down to just her bra. When he questioned the removal of her shirt, she said, "You're supposed to do the whole skin-to-skin thing when the baby's born."

"Aye, love. Just let me know if you get cold," he said.

He laid a fresh blanket out beneath her, laid one over her lap, and then propped her up as best he could against the pile of pillows at the head of the bunk.

"How do you feel?" he asked, pausing for a moment to take her in.

"Good," she said, and gave him a weak smile. "Do you have soap? You need to clean your hands."

He found a bar of soap and a wash basin, rolled up his sleeves, removed his hook and brace, and set about scrubbing himself from his fingers and blunted wrist to his elbows. In his nervousness, he scrubbed too hard, and his skin was bright pink by the time he was finished.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

His arms fell loose at his sides. Killian stared at the now murky water sitting in the basin.

"I'm scared," he said softly.

"I'm not," she said, and he looked at her quickly in surprise. Her lips were pressed tight -- from the pain, he knew -- but her green eyes gazed steadily back at his own. "I have you here with me. How could I be scared?"

He let out a harsh breath, almost a sob, and sat down heavily on the bed beside her. Her hand found his and squeezed.

"We can do this," she said.

"Aye, love. We can do this."

He lowered his eyes to their entwined fingers. Her nails were biting deep into his skin, and it stung, but he knew that small hurt was like a rain drop compared to the ocean of pain she was currently drowning in. He'd bear any pain right now -- he'd endure the most exquisite, excruciating torture -- if it meant _her_ pain was lessened by even the smallest amount.

She had said "we", but Killian knew _she_ was the one doing this.

"Okay. I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Emma," he said, voice high-pitched, desperate.

"I need you to check and see how dilated I am."

Killian swallowed hard.

He moved to kneel at the foot of the bed, and lifted the blanket away from her knees so he could see. There was blood, fluid. Everything looked swollen and tender.

"What...what am I looking for?"

"How big does it look?"

"What?"

"How many fingers do you think you could fit in there right now? Like, across?"

"Erm...a few?" he said feebly. "Three?"

She nodded, and leaned her head back on the pillows.

"How...how big is it supposed to be?" he asked, glancing back down between her legs. What he saw...he couldn't _imagine_ how that felt. How was she doing this? How was she not screaming in agony?

"Big enough for a baby to get through," she said. "You don't see a head or anything, do you?"

"Truthfully, love, I'm not sure _what_ I'm seeing."

He meant it seriously, but Emma started laughing. Her laughs quickly turns to groans of pain, however, and Killian left the foot of the bunk to sit next to her again.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"We wait. I think I have to dilate more -- like, _a lot_ more -- before I can start pushing."

"Are you certain?"

"No," she said. "But it...it feels right."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Hold my hand," she said, and slipped her fingers into his again. "And talk to me. Just talk."

They waited, and Killian talked. He saw Emma's pain, saw her whole body clenched tight with it, so he told her how strong she was. She was sheathed with sweat, but to him it seemed as if she was glowing, so he told her how beautiful she looked.

Emma listened, and he saw how his words relaxed her, how she held onto them, so he kept talking. He told her how excited he was for the baby to arrive; he told her how excited he was to meet their son. He joked that it seemed their boy was destined to be a pirate after all, and she laughed, then groaned as another contraction made her clench her jaw.

Contractions made her magic wreak havoc. When Emma had a contraction, the flames in the oil lamps would flare, the table would shake, and books would jump off shelves. Sometimes her palm would also grow unbearably hot, and his own hand would burn or feel prickly, likes pins and needles, but Killian never let go.

In between contractions, she was usually slumped against the pillows with her eyes closed, resting. Killian would lay a fresh towel soaked in cool water across her brow, or hold a bottle of water to her lips for her to drink. He made regular visits to the end of the bed to see how she was dilating, and reported to Emma what he saw.

Over Emma's gasps and hisses of pain, over Killian's voice and over the sound of the rain against the windows they could hear booming thunder.

The storm was upon them.

The ship rocked to and fro, buffeted by the wind, and waves pounded the sides, but Killian wasn't afraid. The Jolly Roger had weathered worse than this. She would hold.

Occasionally he checked his phone, to see if his message had gone through, and to count the hours that had passed. It had only been two, but it felt like twenty.

"Killian," Emma said suddenly.

He looked up and found her wide awake and focused. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and her eyes blazed.

"I'm going to push," she said.

His heart stuttered, and a shiver passed through him.

"Okay," he said breathlessly. "Okay."

He carefully changed the blanket beneath her, then scrubbed his hands once more before kneeling at the end of the bed, between her legs.

Emma gave him a small, pain-filled smile. "Get ready to catch that baby," she said. "He's gonna be slippery."

Killian saw her bear down, and start pushing.

The glass of the lantern in the corner burst, and he jumped. As he turned his head, searching for the source of the noise, another shattered.

"Emma," he said quickly, hand scrabbling along the bed sheets, searching for one of hers. "Emma, look at me."

She did.

"Emma, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here, love."

His fingers met hers and gripped hard.

" _I'm here_ ," he repeated.

She nodded. The flames in all the lanterns around the room turned a gentle, sparkly white.

Emma took a deep breath, and started pushing again.

After several minutes, Killian was certain he saw hair.

 _Golden_ hair.

A thrill of excitement ran through him.

_This was it!_

"Emma...I think...I think I see the baby's head!" He grinned at her, and she returned his smile shakily. "You're doing great, Emma. You're _amazing_. You can do this."

More pushing. Killian thought his fingers might break in the vise that was Emma's hand. He kept talking -- babbling, really -- encouraging her, telling her what he saw...

And then, the baby's head crowned and pushed through.

"I can see his face!" Killian said excitedly. Emma let his hand go, and Killian cupped the baby's head gently. Another minute, more pushing. Killian wasn't sure he took a single breath as he watched his son be born. He wasn't certain of _anything_ except his hand and blunted wrist cradling the baby, guiding him into the world.

Killian was half crying, half laughing when he said, "Emma! Emma, love, he's here!"

"Is he okay?" Emma gasped.

"Yes. He's...he's perfect," Killian said breathlessly, staring at the baby he held -- at the tiny life he and Emma had created.

_Our son._

Emma sagged for a moment, in relief, but then she jerked upright.

"Killian. Killian, give him to me. _Please_ ," she said, holding out her arms.

Killian put their son in Emma's hands. One or both of them was trembling. Emma sat back and clutched the baby to her chest.

"I'm never letting you go," she murmured. "I'm never letting you go."

Killian grabbed the blankets from the table -- he'd saved the baby blankets to be used last -- and crossed to the side of the bed to start rubbing the baby down. As Killian rubbed, the baby's limbs came to life, and so did his voice.

He squirmed in Emma's arms, screaming, announcing his displeasure at having been born, and both Emma and Killian started giggling, tears streaming down their faces.

"I think maybe he likes us," Emma said.

Killian threw the soiled blankets to the floor and reached for fresh ones, but found his supply empty. He turned back, to Emma holding their son against her naked chest, both bare, both exposed. He looked around again. The only thing left clean was his long pirate coat. Without hesitation he shook it out and laid it over Emma and the babe.

Emma looked up questioningly from the baby as he did.

"It's all I have," Killian explained.

"It's perfect," Emma said, pulling the coat further over her and the baby.

He bent over and kissed her long and hard on the temple.

"You were amazing, love," he whispered against her hair.

"Thank you." She turned her face to catch his lips in a kiss, and said softly, "I love you, Killian."

"I love you too, Emma." His eyes roved her face, drinking her in. She looked drained, but her smile was rapturous.

She nodded her head to the side. "Get up here," she said.

She leaned into him as he squeezed onto the bunk next to her and slipped an arm behind her shoulders. He rested his forehead against hers, and they looked upon their son.

"Is he...is he still a Killian?" he asked hesitantly. He had a brief vision of himself having to run home and change the name he'd painted on the wall over the crib before Emma could bring the baby home.

"He's _definitely_ a little Killian," Emma said, running one finger along one of the baby's cheeks. He had quieted, but his face was still scrunched up in a disgruntled sort of way.

"I know, I know," Emma soothed. "You were warm and cozy in there, weren't you? And we made you come out."

The baby gave a gurgly little growl that sounded like agreement, and Killian chuckled.

"God, Killian. He's _beautiful_ ," Emma said.

"He is," Killian agreed. "I like the hair."

"Me too," Emma said. She smoothed her hand over little Killian's hair, which was still half damp and sticking to his head in places.

They sat together in silence for a while, just watching the baby, listening to him breathe. Killian longed for him to open his eyes, but he'd fallen asleep, apparently exhausted by the effort of being born.

"Erm, said Killian, suddenly realizing something. "Should I cut the umbilical cord?" He eyed the pulsing white rope that led from the baby's belly back between Emma's legs.

"No," Emma said. "Wait until the doctors...hospital..."

She shook her head slightly, unwilling or unable to finish her sentence.

"Emma, do you feel okay? Are you warm enough?"

"I'm fine," she said faintly. "Just tired."

She leaned her head back, but picked it up immediately and gave it another shake.

"Killian," she said suddenly. "Something's not right. I don't...I don't feel right."

Her eyes were out of focus, her speech was slurred.

"My...my legs..."

Heart in his mouth, Killian peeled back his coat and the blanket. What he saw made his insides turned to lead.

There was blood coating her thighs and soaking the sheets.

_Too much blood._

He looked back at her, only to find her unconscious.

"Emma!" he screamed. "EMMA!"

She was silent. The only sound was the steady patter of rain on the windows.

And then, the baby started crying.

-

Emma dreamt of police sirens and flashing blue lights; she dreamt of Killian's voice, calling her name over and over; she dreamt of a baby crying -- tiny, hoarse little cries that made her heart ache.

She dreamt of ocean waves, washing over her, washing over everything, carrying her home...

-

Killian paced around the waiting room in restless, agitated circles. Round and round he went, and everywhere he turned, people turned their faces away. He knew his own face was like a storm cloud -- the only one who would meet his eyes was David.

David sat rigidly in his chair with his clenched fists resting on his thighs. He'd been their rescuer. He'd brought the response boat and a gaggle of paramedics to the Jolly Roger. He'd carried Emma, wrapped in the blanket from the bed, from the ship and held her in arms all the way back to town because Killian couldn't, because Killian was holding the baby, still swaddled in the long leather coat.

Killian had refused to let him go; Emma wouldn't have wanted him to.

As soon as they'd arrived at the hospital they'd taken Emma to some operating room, and then they'd wrenched the baby from his arms and whisked _him_ away, as well. It had taken two burly male nurses and one incredibly strong female nurse to prevent him from following. Little Killian had shrieked all the way down the hall, until they'd taken him so far away Killian couldn't hear him anymore.

David had been there, forearms across his chest in a death grip, muttering in his ear, calming him down. He'd held Killian steady until Killian's knees had gone weak and buckled.

" _That's my son_."

David hoisted him up, turned him around.

"C'mon. Let's get you something to drink. You're probably dehydrated."

Killian threw David's hand off but it was back instantly, holding him, guiding him away.

" _No_ ," Killian growled. "Emma. I have to get to Emma. I have to find my son."

David's fingers tightened on his arm. "They're fine. The doctors are going to take care of them. Come with me," he coaxed, dragging Killian slowly and steadily towards the vending machines and the gift shop. He sighed. "Come on. Maybe they've got some rum around here. I could use a little myself."

As David purchased a handful of bottled waters, sodas, and snacks, Killian searched the little store for another exit he could use, and his eyes fell upon a display full of stuffed animals. Sitting near the bottom was large, squishy-looking red octopus.

Killian stared, and the octopus stared back.

He felt drawn to it as if by a magnet, and before he knew what he was doing, he had knelt and picked it up. He felt himself smile a little. Something about it just felt right.

"Get it," David said from behind him.

Killian looked at him.

"Get it for the baby," David said. "He was born on a pirate ship, and it's -- it's like a kraken, right? I'm sure he'll love it."

"It's an octopus, David," Killian said, but he bought it.

It was sitting on a chair now. Sometimes Killian turned his head and saw it and its enormous googly eyes, and it comforted him.

Mary Margaret was also in the waiting room, sitting next to Henry. Her arm was around him and she'd pulled his head down to her shoulder. She was stroking his hair and talking to him softly while he stared into space with a frown on his face.

Seeing Henry so worried as well...it made him angry all over again.

It had been _hours_ , and they wouldn't tell him what was going on or if Emma and the baby were okay or if Emma was even still _alive_ \-- she'd been _so_ pale, she'd lost _so_ much blood.

Finally, a voice said, "Mr. Jones?"

Killian whirled, intending to bring the full force of his rage upon whoever was foolish enough to _finally_ come for him, but he stopped himself.

He recognized the nurse staring politely at him, waiting for his acknowledgment. She was the one who'd felt Emma's stomach after her pregnancy had been sped up, and assured themthat the baby was fine.

Killian cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"You can see Emma now," she said, he could tell by her voice that everything was fine. "She should be waking up soon."

He snatched up the red octopus and followed her.

-

Emma opened her eyes only to be blinded by lights overhead, and closed them immediately.

"Killian," she muttered. "The baby."

"Emma," came Killian's voice from her left. "Emma, I'm here."

"The baby...?"

"He's...he's fine. He's fine, Emma."

She opened her eyes again, slowly. She was in the hospital.

"What happened?"

"You passed out," he said. "You were bleeding. The doctor's said you had a postpartum hemorrhage."

She looked around hazily -- at her hospital gown and the thick blankets covering her to her armpits, at the IV in her arm, at Killian's pale face and worried eyes.

"How did we get here?"she asked.

"Your father found us."

Suddenly, the room came sharply into focus.

" _Where's the baby_?"

She'd _just_ had him in her arms. She could picture his face, scrunched up with his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. She could still feel the way he'd curled into her, seeking her warmth and the contact of her skin.

"They took him away," he said. Emma stared, and he shook his head. He looked tense yet exhausted, completely worn out. "When we got here, they took you to an operating room and they took the baby somewhere else."

"They haven't let me see him yet," he said.

"Is he okay?" she asked urgently.

" _I don't know_ ," he said, and his voice broke.

Emma tried to sit up, but Killian's hand and stump were there to push her shoulders back down.

"No, Swan. You shouldn't move. You need to rest."

She stared at him hard, but then her eyes slid past, caught by a flash of red.

"What's that?" she asked, a smile tugging the corners of her lips.

Eyes cast downwards, Killian picked it up and deposited it in her lap. It was a stuffed red octopus with enormous plastic eyes.

"I saw it in the gift shop. I thought...I thought the baby might like it."

He fiddled with it nervously, fingers picking at the red fuzz. A crease appeared between his brows, and Emma understood. It must have been horrible for him, separated from Emma and his newborn son, not knowing what was going on, not knowing what was going to happen to them.

Emma stroked one of the octopus's tentacles. It was unbelievably soft. The baby would definitely like it.

"Call the nurse," she said. "Let's find out where our kid is."

"No need," said a voice from the door. "We're here."

It was the nurse from before -- the one who had been a midwife in the Enchanted Forest. She was wheeling in the clear plastic bassinet that held their son.

Killian's fingers gripped hers. Emma drew in a shaky breath. She could see him, wrapped up tight in a white blanket patterned with light blue stars with a little dark blue hat atop his head. It was an effort not to leap from the bed and run to him immediately.

"Sorry for the wait," the nurse said with a smile. "Given the circumstances, the doctor wanted to examine him thoroughly."

"And?" Killian asked anxiously.

" _And_ he's a perfectly healthy, 7 lb., 1 oz, little bundle of _cute_. Does he have a name?"

"Killian," Emma said. "Killian David."

"That's lovely," she said. She reached into the bassinet and eased the baby into her arms. "Oh, I hope you don't mind...his grandmother brought some things for him, so we used this blanket and hat instead of the standard hospital-issue."

Emma smiled. _Of course_. She'd probably waylaid the nurses in the hallway on the way to Emma's room and insisted they redress the baby.

"Now, who wants to hold him first?"

Killian fell still. Emma could feel the longing rolling off of him, see it in his eyes. He'd sat alone for hours, not knowing if his son was okay.

"Hey," she said gently, touching his arm. "Hey, go for it."

Killian nodded shakily and stepped forward to take his son. He held his arms out tentatively. With a kind smile the nurse readjusted their position, crooking his stump arm and placing his other beneath, then she placed the baby into his hold.

"I'll give you two some privacy," she said. "But I'll be back shortly to help you get this boy nursing. He's bound to be starving by now. He was giving me and all the other nurses the eyeball, if you know what I mean." She winked at that, and left.

Emma watched Killian. His back was turned towards her, his head bowed. Suddenly, she saw his shoulders hunch over and go stiff.

"Killian," she said softly. "Hey, Killian. It's okay. It's okay to cry."

He turned to her then. His entire face with red, and tears streamed down his cheeks. But he was smiling, and it was the happiest smile Emma had ever seen on him.

Emma smiled too, feeling tears begin to gather in her own eyes. "It's okay," she said again.

" _He's safe_ ," Killian said.

"I know," she said.

_Finally._

After everything that had happened over the past 3 months, he was finally here; he was finally safe in their arms.

Killian brought the baby over, and eased onto the bed next to her. Emma leaned into him. One of her hands lifted to his nape to twine her fingers through his hair, and the other joined his atop the baby.

"He looks like you," she said. He had Killian's long mouth and shapely lips. She brushed her finger over his cheek, and those lips quirked in a near-smile.

"Look at this, Swan," Killian said, and slipped one finger underneath the baby's beanie. He peeled it aside to reveal a glimpse of fluffy yellow hair.

Emma laughed. "He's like a little duckling," she said.

One eye cracked open and peered at her blearily.

"Hey," Emma said. "Hey there, cutie. Hi, little Killian."

The baby's other eye opened. They were a dark, blue-gray, like ocean waves in a storm; like the storm he'd been born in.

"Hey, lad," Killian said, his voice a low, deep rumble.

Little Killian's eyes opened a little wider and sought out Killian.

"I think he recognizes your voice," Emma said. The baby continued to look at Killian, eyes roving up and down his face.

"Maybe you should sing to him," Emma suggested, and was surprised to see Killian blush.

"Are you nervous he won't like it?" she teased.

"A little," Killian admitted.

"Trust me, he likes it," Emma said. "I felt him dancing around in there every time you sang to him. He likes it."

Killian started humming, and after a moment, quiet words slipped from his lips.

" _Idir gaoth is idir tonn_..."

Emma drew her legs up a little -- she was apparently on some good meds because the soreness hadn't set in yet -- and snuggled against Killian. She rested her head on his shoulder, and watched the baby watch Killian.

"Let's just stay like this forever," Emma whispered.

Killian leaned his head against hers, and kept singing.

-

Emma was nervous when it came time to breastfeed, but the nurse walked her through it, and even showed Killian how he could help. It wasn't super comfortable, especially not at first, but it wasn't painful, either.

"He's got a good latch," the nurse said approvingly.

"My lad knows his way around a breast," Killian said into her ear, but he hadn't said it quietly enough.

The nurse heard and chuckled. As she was leaving, she turned back and said, "You have some visitors in the waiting room who are eager to see you. When should I send them in?"

"Um," Emma said, looking down at the baby suckling at her breast. "Can you wait until he's done?"

" _Of course_."

-

Henry was the first to visit. Killian got him set up comfortably in the armchair, helped him prop a pillow across his lap for support, then gentle took the baby from Emma and put him in his big brother's arms.

Henry gazed down at his little Killian with a huge grin on his face.

"He's _awesome_ ," Henry said.

"He is pretty awesome," Emma agreed, watching her two boys. The smile on Henry's face was genuine, and she was relieved.

"So, are you guys going to give him, like, a nickname? Or are you going to call him Killian all the time?" Henry asked.

"Actually..." Emma said.

"Actually, what?" Killian asked.

Emma bit her lip and smiled. "I sort of had an idea."

"What is it, Swan?"

"I was thinking we could call him Ian," she said, watching Killian's face for his reaction. "It's the last part of his name. And that way nobody will get confused."

Killian blinked. Slowly, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. "I...Swan, I _really_ like it. It's...it's perfect."

Henry smiled in an extremely satisfied way.

-

David and Mary Margaret came in next. Both crossed the room immediately and hugged her tight around the shoulders.

"Oh, Emma," her mom said. "I'm so happy you're okay!"

"We were so worried," David said.

"Yea, sorry," Emma said. "My magic was kind of crazy. I _meant_ to get us to the hospital."

Mary Margaret pulled away. "We brought you something for the baby," she said, and then looked pointedly at David.

David reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick, folded bundle of dark blue wool and offered it to Emma. Curiously, Emma took it and unwrapped it, then gasped.

"Oh my God," she said. "It's...how did you...?"

It was a baby blanket, identical to her own -- the one she'd held on to since birth -- only it was dark blue with pale blue silk trim, and written elegantly in gray thread in one corner was _Killian David_.

"Granny made it," David said softly. "She made yours, and she made one for Neal. We thought it fitting that..." David looked at Killian sideways and grinned. "We thought _Prince_ Killian should have one too."

" _Prince_ Killian?" Killian choked.

"Yea -- wait, you're still going to...the baby's name is Killian, right?"

"Yes," Emma said with a laugh. "His name's Killian."

"They're going to call him Ian, though," Henry said. "For short."

"Ian," said David thoughtfully. "Hm, I like it."

Killian turned his head to hide a grin and his red cheeks.

"Now," David said, drawing himself up. "May I please hold my grandson?"

"Yea," Emma said.

"Of course, mate."

David crossed to Henry, leaned down, and carefully took Ian into his arms.

" _Ian_ ," he said, bouncing the baby gently. "Hi, Ian."

The baby made a throaty gurgle in response.

David continued to stare down at Ian, a soft smile playing over his lips. "He's a handsome little guy," he said quietly. He brushed a fingertip against the baby's fist, and the baby opened it to allow his grandpa's finger in, then closed it tightly once more.

David ducked his head to kiss the baby's hand, the one that gripped his finger, and said, "You're very lucky, you know that? You have a mom and a dad who love you very much and would do _anything_ for you."

" _And_ a big brother," Henry said.

"And don't forget his grandparents," Mary Margaret added. "I hope you haven't forgotten that you threatened to arrest the entire hospital if Whale didn't let you take those paramedics with you to go find Emma and the baby."

David blushed and cleared his throat. " _And_ you have a grandpa who will put anyone who hurts you in jail."

 _That's if that someone manages to get past me and Killian first_ , Emma thought to herself.

Killian chuckled. "Our boy's very lucky indeed."

-

Emma's parents only stayed for an hour. They passed the baby around between themselves and Henry, gushing over his existence, and then they left so Emma and Killian could be alone again with their son.

The three of them snuggled back in bed together. Emma held the baby skin-to-skin against her chest with his star-pattern blanket laid across them for warmth. Killian's stump arm was around her shoulders, and his hand was on the baby's back, rubbing slow, soothing circles.

"We made this, Emma," he said.

"We did. And I'd say we did a pretty good job."

Killian grinned and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead.

The baby was asleep, but Emma knew he'd be up again soon, and hungry. She settled further against Killian, leaned her head back against his arm, and closed her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Emma," he said, lips ghosting over hers. He rested his cheek against her forehead, and they fell asleep listening to the sound of their heartbeats, and of the baby breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the song I keep having Killian sing, btw: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUZ_smvqVQ8


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this has been an incredible journey, and I can't believe that it's finally coming to an end. Thank you so much for reading it, loving it, and supporting it! I've really enjoyed sharing it with you guys. There's a sequel in the works, but for now, Cygnets is still active, and the first chapter of Alone, Until I Get Home should be posted sometime this week. 
> 
> Again, thank you thank you THANK YOU!!!

_Week One_

The three of them went home the next evening, and Emma realized the whole house had changed. Everything was exactly where they'd left it two days before, but it _felt_ different.

And the reason was Ian.

Emma looked at the baby, asleep in his carrier (Killian's extra slow, cautious driving on the way back from the hospital had lulled him to sleep almost immediately), and couldn't help the overwhelming rush of excitement that had her practically trembling.

This was it. This was her and Killian's lives changing forever. This was her and Killian becoming _parents_.

Killian turned to her, and Emma saw the same revelation in his eyes.

He broke into a soft smile, and asked, "What do you say, love? Shall we give him a tour?"

"Absolutely."

Killian set the car seat carefully on the floor and knelt to un-strap the baby and lift him out. Emma had never seen him be so gentle as he was with their son, as if he was carrying his most precious, fragile possession -- and Emma supposed that, in his mind at least, he _was_.

Ian awoke as Killian eased him into the crook of his hook arm. He squirmed, and made the tiniest discontent huffs until Killian began murmuring to him.

"Easy lad," he soothed, stroking Ian's cheek with a fingertip until he quieted. "No need to fuss. You're safe. Your mother and I are here."

 _Fuck_ but if Emma almost didn't start crying right there and then. Killian was _amazing_. She'd _known_ he would be a good dad, but seeing it, and seeing how fiercely he already loved their son left her feeling weak-kneed and giddy all at the same time.

"Ready, love?"

"Yea," she said, and slipped her arm through Killian's. He walked slowly, and she leaned on him as they made their way around the first floor, and then up the stairs. The soreness and the aches she remembered from having Henry, but the sting from the stitches was new and a little disconcerting.

"This is Henry's room. He's your big brother," Killian said in a low voice as they opened the door to Henry bedroom and stepped inside. "He's a good lad. I think you'll like him. He's a bit older than you, so he may not want to play with you all the time, but he'll always be there when you need him."

Emma's hand tightened on Killian's arm, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. Tears stung her eyes, and she didn't fight them.

"Are you alright, Emma?" he asked, worry suddenly tingeing his voice.

"I'm okay," she sniffled into his shirt. "I'm okay, it's just -- I'm happy Ian has a big brother, that's all."

Killian chuckled. "Aye, me too, love. Henry's going to be fantastic."

"He is," she agreed.

"Do you...would you like to continue? Or would you rather sit down? We can get in bed if you want-"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going. We haven't shown him everything yet."

Killian grinned at her, then slowly turned them around. They went down the hallway to their bedroom, purposely passing by the nursery, saving it for last.

"This room belongs to your mother and I, but I think you're going to be spending a lot of time in here as well, especially since you don't seem to like sleeping at night very much."

Emma smiled. Ian was feeding every two hours, which meant near sleeplessness for her and Killian, but she didn't mind; that was _normal_ , and normal was good. She didn't care if Ian didn't sleep through the night until he was 18, just as long as he was safe.

Finally, they took Ian into the nursery.

" _This_ room, little lad, is for you," Killian said, then added quietly. "It's been waiting for you. Although not as long as your mother and I have been waiting for you." He paused, and ducked his head to kiss the baby's. "See those stripes? That was your mother's idea. I hope you like them as much as she does."

Killian flashed her a grin, and Emma returned it. They wandered a little further into the room and stood at the center, on the rug.

"Over there's the rocking chair. I think you'll be spending a lot of time there, too."

Emma's parents had been by earlier, to tidy up the house and make sure everything was ready for the baby to come home. One of them -- Emma suspected David -- had placed the red octopus stuffed animal on the rocking chair.

"When you're a little bit older I'm going to read to you there, but for now I imagine it's just going to be for nursing and for rocking you to sleep -- that is, _if_ you sleep. It seems that you don't."

Ian was listening, studying Killian's face with a concentrated frown.

"Tell him about his crib," Emma said, and nudged him encouragingly.

"His crib," Killian said, and swallowed hard. Emma saw his eyes dart to it nervously, then back to the baby.

"C'mon," Emma said, steering Killian over to the baby's bed. "He's gonna love it."

The crib looked even bigger now, compared to how small Ian was. The blue blanket with _Killian David_ written on it was draped over the side, and Emma again suspected David's hand.

Killian took a deep breath. "This crib is for you. And it's not...it's not just a place for you to sleep. It's a promise. A promise that I'll always be the father you deserve."

Emma heard the emotion in his voice, and slipped her arms around his waist to hug him tightly.

"You're going to be great, Killian," she said.

-

Her parents stopped by once more in the evening with two huge bags of Granny's takeout for them for dinner. They stayed to eat with them, and afterwards they watched Ian while Emma and Killian took showers.

Emma hissed in pain and then in relief as the hot water trickled between her legs.

"Emma?" came Killian's voice from the doorway. "Do you need anything, love?"

She sighed and said, "A new vagina."

Killian chuckled. "I can't -- I _won't_ get you a new vagina, Swan. I _love_ your vagina-"

Emma thought she heard David's indignant voice, cutting in from downstairs.

"Well then don't eavesdrop on private conversations between a man and his -- between Emma and I, mate!" Killian said loudly, then, "As I was saying, the nurses packed us some of those self-cooling sanitary napkins, if that would help. I'd offer my personal services, but unfortunately I don't think _this_ particular ache is one best solved by my c-"

She heard David's voice again, closer, angrier.

"Oh my God, Killian. Please stop before my dad kills you."

"I'm the father of his grandson, Swan; he wouldn't dare. Besides, he's holding Ian at the moment, so the most he can do is look angry-"

Emma stuck her head out of the shower. "Killian. My dad fought his way through a horde of Regina's Black Knights with me in his arms the night I was born. I wouldn't push him if I were you."

"Oh," Killian said falteringly.

"Yea, ' _oh_ ' is right," David said from behind him. "Now, do you want help moving the crib, or not?"

-

Emma was beyond ready to spend a night in her own bed, even though she knew it would be a night punctuated frequently by Ian crying to be fed. They dressed him in the striped pajamas Killian had bought him, swaddled him, and laid him down in the crib.

"Goodnight, cutie," Emma said, running her fingers lightly over his hair. "See you in a little bit."

"Goodnight, lad," Killian said.

As they got beneath the blankets and Killian snuggled against Emma's back, he pressed a kiss below her ear and asked, "How many hours do you think we'll get this time, Swan?"

"Mmm," she said, considering. "I say one."

" _One_? That's not very optimistic of you. I'm betting three."

"Oh, so now we're betting?"

"Indeed. I'll bet you five diaper changes that I'm correct, and we get three full hours of sleep before the lad wakes us up again."

"Five _poopy_ diaper changes."

"Fine, five _poopy_ diaper changes."

"Alright, you're on."

-

Emma ended up winning.

Ian started wailing almost exactly an hour later. Emma sat up and got ready to feed him while Killian got out of bed, scooped him up, and carried him into the nursery to change his diaper first. A minute later, he was laughing.

"Ian, lad, that's _vile_. What did you eat? What did your _mother_ eat? Wait -- no, stop! Stop peeing! Emma, help!"

Emma buried her face in her hands and started laughing too.

\---

_Week Two_

Learning how to care for a baby was a trial by fire, and ready or not -- _prepared_ or not -- Killian was a father.

The full weight of that responsibility startled him, although it was far less frightening than he had expected. From the moment he'd first seen the babe in Emma's arms aboard the Jolly Roger, he'd known there was nothing -- _nothing_ \-- he wouldn't do for Emma and their boy.

They were _everything_.

He never knew his heart could feel so full. He thought it would burst right out of his chest every time he looked at Ian, every time he held him. This tiny thing, this tiny life he and Emma had made together...he was _magnificent_.

After his initial tantrum on the Jolly Roger, Ian seemed fairly content to be out in the world, although still skeptical. He had a habit of opening one eye and surveying his surroundings before either opening both, or closing it again and feigning sleep. If you caught him at it, he'd make a sound that resembled laughter, and Killian knew they were catching a glimpse of their boy's personality in those moments.

Killian gleefully soaked it all in, learning everything there was to learn about his son. When you talked to him, he'd watch you with his stormy, blue-gray eyes. If you tickled his cheek he'd smile, and even though Killian knew it was merely a reflex, it still made his stomach do joyful backflips every time.

Whether awake or asleep, he liked to be held, and both he and Emma spent hours pacing the house with the baby in their arms. Killian often wore just a pair of sweatpants and held the baby against his bare chest. He _loved_ holding the warm little bundle safe and tight and feeling the baby's soft breaths against his skin.

The first time Killian had tried holding the baby skin-to-skin had been in the hospital. As soon as he'd laid the baby against his chest, Ian had immediately curled one fist painfully tight into Killian's chest hair, making Killian yelp and call for Emma.

"It's not funny, Swan! It hurts!" he'd growled as she'd giggled at him, but he'd made no move to dislodge the baby, because the baby seemed perfectly pleased with himself.

-

Other than crying when he was hungry and whimpering miserably when you changed his diaper, Ian didn't fuss much. The first time he _was_ seriously fussy, Killian was surprised to find that rocking him and singing to him quieted him immediately. He'd thought perhaps it was coincidence until it happened a second time, then a third.

The fourth time, however, his fussing turned into wailing, and Killian rushed him to Emma, fearing  something was wrong or that the baby just didn't like him anymore, but Emma was quick to reassure him.

"He's just hungry," she said, and she was right; as soon as Ian latched onto her and began his suckling, he was calmed.

"Should of known," Killian sighed. He liked watching Emma and the baby in those moments, enjoyed witnessing the bond between them grow. He reached in and ran the back of one finger lightly over the baby's cheek, but the baby only had eyes for Emma, and Emma's return smile lit up the whole room.

-

The new baby drew many visitors. 

Henry, Emma's parents, and Belle came by for at least two hours every day, and Killian was certain that, if not for Mary Margaret and Belle prompting them to do so, they wouldn't have remembered to eat once during those first few weeks.

When Mary Margaret introduced Neal to his new nephew, Neal very happily leaned in and planted a huge, wet kiss on Ian's face. Ian opened one eye, saw Neal, then pretended to go back to sleep, and neither he nor Emma called him out on it.

" _Little pirate_ ," Emma muttered fondly, so only Killian could hear.

-

Will also visited surprisingly often. He did so on the pretense of filling Killian in on how the bar was faring, but Killian saw the way he marveled at the baby every time he saw him. Finally, Killian grew weary of Will admiring Ian from a distance, and one day, as soon as Will walked in the door, Killian thrust Ian into his hands.

"Here, hold him."

"I don't really think-" Will protested, but it was too late. He held absolutely still as Killian adjusted his arms and then adjusted the baby in them. He stared down at Ian for a long moment as if he was frightened.

After a while his expression softened, then he grinned.

"Is all that hair really his?"

\---

_Week Three_

The first two weeks went by in a blur, but it was a subdued, quiet blur, and Emma could not have been more content. Aside from having visitors every day, there were no distractions, no obligations; it was just Emma, Killian, and Ian. It felt as if time had stopped to allow her and Killian a chance to rest and adjust to reality. And the reality was the tiny little guy all wrapped up in a blanket like a squishy burrito was here and he was _theirs_ and he was _perfect_.

They held him constantly, both still completely stunned that he belonged to them, both afraid to let him go. Emma could hardly take her eyes off him. She loved everything about him: his fluffy golden hair; the way the shape of his ears and mouth resembled Killian's; the way his eyes would focus on you when you talked to him; how he'd grip her finger or a lock of her hair tight in his little fist as she nursed him.

And Killian...Killian continued to _amaze_ her. He wasn't squeamish about diapers, he willingly volunteered to wake with the baby and feed him bottles of breastmilk Emma had prepared so she could get a little extra sleep, and he didn't get nervous and hand the baby over to her when he fussed.

He was totally hands-on, and although he fumbled occasionally because of his stump, he didn't let it slow him down or discourage him.

One night, after Ian had woken them for the fourth time with his pitiful, hungry wailing, and Killian had scooped him out of his crib, brought him to Emma, and helped her guide a nipple into the baby's gaping mouth, she looked at him, at the bags beneath his eyes and his tired smile, and said, "You don't have to get up for this. I can feed him by myself. You can sleep."

Killian looked at her flatly as if she'd said something ridiculous. "Emma, if you're awake then I want to be awake too." Then his voice grew quiet, and he said, "I'm over 200 years old, and I've seen a lot of things. But this...this is new to me. I don't want to miss a single second."

She had started crying then, because when did Emma Swan ever get so lucky?

\---

_Week Four_

Killian was back at work. Emma had encouraged him to return, and although Will and Belle and Marco had done a marvelous job taking care of it in his extended absence, he couldn't truly deny that, since it was _his_ bar and it was practically brand new, he should be there running it.

He fell into the routine with surprising ease. They kept the bar closed Monday and Tuesday, then Wednesday through Sunday he, Will, Smee, Marco, and Robin worked on a rotating schedule, with Killian and Will picking up the bulk of the shifts.

Working again was satisfying. He enjoyed the sense of purpose and competence the bar gave him, he enjoyed spending more time with Will and Robin and growing his friendship with them, and he enjoyed how the people of Storybrooke coming into _his_ bar made him feel as if he was finally part of the town, no longer an outsider.

The only downside was that he missed Emma and the baby every second he was away from them. It _did_ make him cherish the moments he was with them even more, however. His favorite part of the night was returning home to find Emma nursing the baby in bed, or just holding him as he slept, waiting for him.

He'd stand in the doorway, just reveling in the fact that this was his: this little family was _his_.

\---

_Week Five_

Ian was awake way more often now, and he was alert and curious. He stared at everything and everyone with eyes Emma swore were already turning blue -- _Killian's_ blue. Fresh air and new sights and sounds seemed to make him even perkier, so once Emma stopped feeling like a breastfeeding, diaper-changing zombie, she started taking the baby outside for short periods of time every day.

Sometimes she'd visit her mom and Neal, or her dad at the station. Ian pretended to sleep whenever he realized Neal was in the room, but he recognized David and would look around eagerly for him if he heard his voice.

If Killian was at the bar, she'd take the baby to visit  him too. He'd drop whatever he was doing whenever they walked in the door to greet them. Once, Emma visited in the evening. Will saw her coming and stood in the door, blocking her way with a grin on his face.

"I'm sorry, m'am, but no babies allowed in the bar," he said.

"If you let me by I'll let you hold him," Emma said.

Will considered for a moment, then said, "Deal."

"Pardon me," Killian said, shouldering Will out of the way. "But that's _my_ son. I get to hold him first. Now, come with me, lad. I'll introduce you to Leroy and the dwarves. They helped your father build this place."

A few times a week, Emma wore Ian in a sling and walked Henry home from school. Usually they'd get ice cream or a snack from Granny's first before heading home.

"Sorry we haven't been able to spend much time together this past month," Emma said to Henry as they walked down Main Street with two gigantic ice cream cones. Ian was napping cozily against her chest.

Henry shrugged and smiled. "It's alright. I get it. You don't have to apologize."

Emma had worried that his excitement about having a little brother would evaporate the moment he realized how much time babies took up, but Henry had surprised her. He was enthusiastic about wanting to hold the baby, although not for long periods at a time. He liked to sit next to her or Killian on the couch when one of them was holding Ian, or sit on the floor in front of Ian's bouncer,  and read aloud to them. When the baby started tummy time, Henry got right down on the rug with him and talked and smiled and held brightly colored toys up for Ian to focus on.

Sometimes, when he thought no one was listening, he'd talk to the baby as if they'd been friends for years. Emma eavesdropped, and in those moments learned a lot about what was going on in Henry's life.

"I can't wait for you to get older so we can do cool stuff together again," Henry was muttering one day.

_Again?_

Emma shook her head (it must have been a slip of the tongue) and turned back to the baby socks she was sorting.

"I think...I think Ava really likes me. Like... _really_ likes me. I mean, she kissed me, so...I don't know."

Emma smiled to herself. She liked Ava, and Henry had really started to flourish -- socially speaking -- the past few months.

"I'm just worried things might change when I get to high school. Maybe she won't like me anymore, you know, like if her friends don't like me or if they think I'm lame..."

She heard Henry sigh.

"Whatever. We'll see. I've been hanging out with Mordred. He's quiet, but he's smart. I guess he's pretty cool. Not as cool as you though, don't worry."

The baby started gurgling, and Emma knew Henry must be tickling him.

"He's going to start high school with me, even though he's technically only in 7th grade right now. Grandma and grandpa and Lancelot sort of thought that it would help him integrate if he started school with someone he knew. So I guess I'm like his Storybrooke liaison or something."

There were two socks in the basket with no partner, so Emma slipped back into the basement to find them, and when she returned, Henry had changed the subject.

"I think I might try out for the hockey team. I've never really skated, but they have a summer-long conditioning class that's open to everyone, so I think I'm going to do that. And then when you're older I can teach you how to play, too, and -- holy crap! Are you _smiling_? Like, _actually_ smiling? _Mom_!"

Grinning, Emma went into the front room to find Henry cross-legged on the floor in front of Ian's bouncer.

"Mom, I think he _smiled_ at me!"

Emma didn't mention that Killian had made the same claim the previous night, or that two days before that Emma had seen his _actual_ first smile (she'd been feeding him, he'd been watching her, as usual, but then he'd turned his head, nipple falling from his lips, to give her the biggest, gummiest, _happiest_ smile).

She wanted Henry to have this. She wanted to have something that was _his_ with the baby -- something special.

"Congratulations, kid," she said. "I think you just got the baby's first real smile."

Henry beamed, and so did Ian.

-

On weekends, Killian would stay home with Ian so Emma and Henry could have some alone mother-son time. They'd go see a movie, or go to the park, or just get lunch at Granny's. One Saturday, while they were eating breakfast, Henry asked if maybe they could switch it up, and Emma could stay with Ian so he and Killian could do some father-son stuff, and Emma thought Killian might fall out of his chair he was so astonished.

"Wait," Emma said. "Is 'father-son stuff' code for hitting each other with sticks on the Jolly Roger?"

"It's not 'hitting each other with sticks', Swan," Killian scoffed. "It's swordplay."

"Yea, mom, it's swordplay," Henry added, grinning cheekily.

Emma had stood at the window with Ian in her arms, watching them get into the bug and drive away. The baby was fussing as though he knew the boys were off having fun, and he was stuck at home.

"Don't worry, buddy," she said, rubbing one of his striped-socked feet. "That's gonna be you one day. I'm sure your daddy's gonna teach you all about fencing and sailing and flirting with ladies, just you wait."

\---

_Week Six_

When Killian had his first nightmare that he'd lost Emma and the baby on the ship the day Ian was born, Emma was there to soothe him. He woke, shivering, to find Emma's arms around him and her fingers running through his hair, murmuring, "It's okay, Killian. We're here. We're right here."

\---

_Week Seven_

Watching Killian with the baby was surprisingly a huge turn on.

Killian had just put the baby down for a nap in his crib in the nursery one morning when Emma planted her hands on his chest and pushed him up against the hallway wall. Before he could protest her lips were hot on his and her fingers were sliding along the waistband of his pants.

" _Yes_ ," he breathed. "Swan _, please_."

She slipped her hand inside and found him ready for her. He gasped against her lips as she stroked him and kissed her hard, moaning into her mouth when he came in her hand and coated her wrist with his seed.

Afterwards, he sagged against the wall, breathing hard, holding her body to his. Both his hands fell to her waist, fingertips against her bare hipbone. Emma knew he was asking a question.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak, and he reversed her positions. Heat flooded her belly and pooled between her legs. It had been a long time, and her body _ached_ for him.

He nuzzled her jaw and growled. "I can't wait to be inside you again, Emma."

" _Bedroom_ ," she whispered, and he lifted her up and carried her to their bed.

\---

_Week Eight_

It was a Tuesday when Belle knocked on their door and surprised them with the glass jar containing Killian's hand.

"I thought that, you know, _now_ maybe you might want this..." she said awkwardly, and held it out towards them.

Killian felt as if he'd swallowed an ice cube.

Emma glanced at him, then turned back to Belle. "Thanks, Belle," she said, gingerly taking the jar from her. "I'll, um, let you know how it goes."

-

Emma set the jar on the kitchen table, and Killian sat next to it. He stared stonily at his dismembered hand for what felt like hours, thinking hard.

Rumplestiltskin had said-

 _No_.

Emma was right.

The hand was just a hand, nothing more. He'd done terrible things with that hand, but he'd also done terrible things with his other hand, and with his hook.

But that wasn't who he was anymore.

Finally, he realized he _did_ want it back; he wanted to hold Emma with two hands, he wanted to hold his _son_ with two hands.

He leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and said, "Alright, let's have it back then."

There was no response. He looked around and saw he was alone on the first floor.

_How long have I been sitting here?_

He took the jar upstairs, and found Emma and the baby in their bedroom. She was sitting on the bed with Ian lying on his back in front of her. She had his hands in hers, and she was leaning over him, making silly faces and goofy sounds that had him giggling.

He lingered in the doorway, loathe to interrupt the sweet scene before him. Watching Emma and the baby -- the adoring way they looked at each other, the pure love that flowed between them -- took Killian's breath away.

"Hey, are you ready?" Emma asked, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

He grinned. "Are you saying you knew what my decision would be?"

"I'm saying I knew you'd realize that there's nothing on this planet that could turn you back into the man you used to be -- and also that getting Ian into his car seat would be way easier with two hands."

Killian shook his head and chuckled. She was right: there was nothing that could turn him back to the darkness, not when he had so much light in his life.

And, also, that damned car seat was a menace.

"So," Emma said. "Are you ready?"

"Aye," Killian said, nodding. He sat on the bed and put the jar on the bedside table, then took off his hook and brace and set them beside the jar

Emma gestured, and just like that Killian had two hands again.

He lifted the new hand and stared. He flexed his fingers, rotated his wrist. As before, it felt as if he'd never been separated from it.

"Here," Emma said, and he turned to find her holding Ian out towards him. Ian, both fists stuffed into his mouth, wrinkled his nose and giggled.

Grinning, Killian reached out with both hands, and took him.

\---

_Week Nine_

Emma was in the shower, relishing the hot water and the way it soothed her aching muscles. A combination of sleep deprivation and catnapping in uncomfortable positions made her stiff and sore in odd places.

Suddenly, the lights started flickering. Before Emma could call out to Killian and ask what was going on, he burst through the door with a bawling Ian.

"I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "He's been crying but I wanted you to enjoy your shower so I've been trying to calm him down but he won't and then the lights..."

"It's okay," Emma said hurriedly. "It's okay. Just give me a second to get out and dry off."

She shut off the water and stepped out onto the rug. Killian was rocking the baby, swaying back and forth at the hips, and looking distressed.

"Hey, buddy," she said as she grabbed one of the towels from the rack. "Mama's right here. I'm gonna feed you in a second, don't worry."

Killian grinned as the baby quieted and looked for her, bright blue eyes turning in her direction like a search light.

"Clever lad," Killian chuckled.

Emma toweled off her chest and her hair, then motioned for Killian to hand her the baby. He did, taking the damp towel from her in return, and she nursed Ian on the spot. He latched on and started taking big, hungry gulps, his little jaw working furiously.

"Whoa, kid, pump your brakes; I'm not going anywhere," she said, and as if he understood he slowed his suckling. His eyes drifted half-closed, and he relaxed in her arms.

"I'm sorry, Swan," Killian said again. "I tried."

"Killian, don't apologize. He's a baby. When he's hungry he's hungry."

Killian stepped closer and kissed the baby's head, then brushed his fingers through the baby's hair.

"The lights," Killian said softly. "Was that the baby's magic?"

"Must of been," Emma said.

Killian nodded, as if to himself.

"Is that alright?" she asked.

He looked at her, startled. "Is what alright?"

"That our kid has magic?"

"We already knew he did."

"Yea, but..." she shrugged, dropping her eyes back down to the baby. "I mean, it could have just been that he was using mine because he was inside me, or something. But now...now it's real. Now we _know_."

"Emma, Ian's magic comes from you, so know it's the very best kind of magic. It's the sort of magic that's going to help people one day."

Emma tried to smile, but she couldn't. It scared her a little bit, that the baby had magic -- not because of what he might to with it, but because of what others might want to do _to_ him because of it. Ian having magic might put him in danger.

"You don't think...what if something happens? Like, what if someone tries to hurt him or use him because of his magic?"

 _Like Zelena_ , she thought.

Killian's jaw clenched and his eyebrows drew down. "We'll protect him," he said firmly. "No one's going to hurt him or use him, as long as there's breath in my body. I promise, Emma."

She saw the promise in his eyes, and she nodded. His expression softened then.

"I'm actually sort of happy he has magic," he said.

"Happy? Really?"

"Aye. It's...he's like you." Killian ran his fingers over the baby's cheeks again, making him smile. Killian grinned. "He's got your smile, love."

He did. Emma knew Ian was going to look like Killian, but she couldn't deny he had her smile.

And that made her happier than she could have ever believed.

\---

_Week Ten_

Tonight was the night.

Killian found Emma in the nursery. She was sitting in the rocking chair with Ian asleep on her chest. His hand was curled in her hair.

Emma opened her eyes as he approached, and his heart fluttered in his chest. He'd never felt as nervous in his entire 237 years as he did now.

He couldn't meet her eyes as he knelt beside her chair.

"Emma," he said slowly. "There's something I want to ask you."

"Let's do it," she said. "Let's get married."

His head snapped up in surprise and his mouth dropped open. She just smiled at him.

"You're depriving me of a romantic proposal, Swan," he huffed.

"So ask me."

She was watching him steadily, green eyes dark in the dim light of the nursery, and although he already had his answer, Killian was suddenly nervous again.

He pulled the ring from his vest pocket. It was simple yet elegant, and it seemed to glow in his hand. He offered it to her held between his thumb and forefinger, and her hand slid out to meet his.

As her fingertips brushed his own, he raised his eyes to hers once more, and said, "Emma Swan, will you marry me?"

" _Yes_ ," she said breathlessly.

He slid the ring onto her finger, and then she was surging forward, hugging him with the baby tight between them. Ian stirred and whimpered softly but didn't wake up.

"I love you, Killian," she said.

"I love you too, Emma."

\---

_Week Twenty-Two_

Emma stood before the mirror in the bridal tent, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress. It was strapless, and fit tightly from her breasts to her hips, where it flared out elegantly. It was brilliantly white, but the bodice glinted here and there with the minute crystals worked into the lace. Her hair was pinned up, exposing her neck and shoulders the way she knew Killian loved...

She couldn't wait to see his reaction.

" _Emma_ ," said a low voice.

Emma whirled, eyes wide. "Killian!" she hissed. "You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to see-"

He was standing there at the entrance to the bridal tent with his eyes squeezed shut. "I know, I know," he said, grinning. "But I thought perhaps Ian could."

Ian was riding Killian's hip. Emma smiled, purposely wrinkling her nose, and Ian did the same.

God, he was the _cutest_.

He had Killian's blue eyes and Emma's smile. He'd shed his fuzzy newborn hair, but it was re-growing; it was as blonde as ever but seemed to have a bit of a wave to it. He was five months old, and he was definitely the most chill, cheerful, go-with-the-flow baby on the planet.

Killian, eyes still closed tight, said. "What do you think, lad? How does she look?"

Ian giggled.

" _Of course_ she's beautiful, don't sound so surprised."

"And what about you?" Emma cooed. "Aren't _you_ handsome?"

"Thank you, love," Killian said, head tilted cockily.

Emma snorted. "I was talking to the baby."

"Oh," he said, grin slipping.

Emma hadn't seen Killian in his tux yet, and she took a moment to drink him in.

He was dressed all in black: black suit and shirt, black silk waistcoat and bow tie, shiny black shoes. He'd removed his rings, but kept his earring, and Emma had bought him cufflinks fashioned to resemble the Jolly Roger. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was parted on the side and slicked back.

 _Handsome_ didn't even begin to cover it.

"Killian, you look really, _really_ good," she said, letting her appreciation and her desire color her voice. Carefully, avoiding Ian's hands reaching for her dangling earrings, she pressed herself close to Killian's other side, and said into his ear, "I can't wait to get that tux off you."

She slid one hand down his chest and over his belt, and let her fingertips trail lightly over the outline of his cock. He shivered as she touched him, and Emma felt him stir.

"That's bad form, love," he murmured, turning his face towards her. She caught his lips in a quick kiss, then backed away. His lips chased hers, but she put a hand on his shoulder and he fell still.

" _Later_ ," she said, and he growled deep in his throat in response.

"Did you put sunscreen on him?"

The way his expression changed from lustful to guilty in an instant was comical.

"Erm."

" _Killian_."

"I did, love. I did."

"He needs more."

"Emma, I don't think I can get any more on him. He's a baby, he's only got so much skin."

"Just -- put more sunscreen on him, Killian."

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. " _Fine_."

She went up on tiptoes to kiss him again, this time on the cheek. "I love you. I'll see you soon. And no peeking."

Grinning, he turned and exited the tent, taking Ian with him.

-

Emma had initially wanted something small and discreet, but Killian had convinced her otherwise. In the end, she couldn't argue with his reasoning: her and her parents had missed a lot of moments together, so why not embrace this one and all its potential?

As soon as he'd said it, Emma found herself _wanting_ it. Most of all, she wanted her dad to walk her down the aisle.

Well -- dock, not aisle, but Emma wasn't complaining.

They'd found a scenic spot on the water, out of sight of the harbor, where all you could see was the sea and the sky all around. Emma had used magic to construct a decorative dock, and they'd sailed the Jolly Roger in.

Both the ship and her dock were bedecked with garlands of middlemist flowers -- Mary Margaret had of course headed the wedding planning committee (which also consisted of Belle and Granny) and when they'd asked her about flowers, she'd wistfully remarked, "Those pink ones from Camelot were nice."

She'd been completely astonished to find out that somehow they'd been acquired.

"How?" Emma has asked.

"Don't worry about it," Mary Margaret had said primly, before promptly changing the subject.

-

"Emma, are you ready?"

David was standing just outside the tent, holding the flap back for her, waiting.

" _I'm ready_ ," she said.

She swept from the tent and out onto the lawn.

David's smile was dazzling, and made the sun look dim by comparison.

"You look beautiful, Emma," he said, and Emma could see how completely blown away he was by the moment.

He offered her his arm, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. His other hand came up to cover hers, and she could feel him trembling.

"I'm happy you're here," she said softly.

Tears stood out in his eyes. "Me too," he said, and his smile outshone the sun.

They walked up the dock slowly, drawing out the moment.

"Don't forget to breathe," David whispered. "And don't lock your knees."

"Thanks, dad."

Emma saw Killian aboard the quarterdeck. His back was turned, his head was bowed, and she saw him shifting nervously from foot to foot. Henry stood beside him holding Ian, and Emma was pretty sure Ian was waving to her -- his new trick.

Emma blushed beneath the stares and smiles of everyone on the Jolly Roger as she and David stepped aboard. She kept her eyes fixed on her boys, feeling her excitement mount as she grew closer to them.

When Killian heard her footsteps climbing to the quarterdeck, his head snapped up. He rotated slowly to face her. As soon as his eyes found her, he turned his head sharply away. Emma saw him swallow hard and bite his lip. When he looked at her again, his eyes were bright with tears.

"Emma, you look-"

"I know," she said, and took her place beside him.

-

Lancelot officiated. They kept the ceremony short, because it was August and it was the middle of the day, and then they all moved to the grass for the reception, which took place beneath a huge, shady canopy.

Mary Margaret and Killian had the first dance. Emma could tell Mary Margaret was praising him and gushing about how happy she was, because Killian's ears were bright red. Emma danced with David next, and then with Henry. She didn't want her dance with Killian to ever end. She could have stayed in the circle of his arms, swaying slowly to the music with her head resting on his shoulder forever.  

-

The most sought after dance partner was the baby, however. Ian was passed from hand to hand, and throughout the night Emma saw him with Belle (sitting atop her gigantic belly), her parents, Robin, Will, Marco, Granny, and even Regina.

By the time David and Mary Margaret took him home with them, he was passed out, exhausted.

-

Afterwards, her and Killian set sail on the Jolly Roger. They took her out nearly to the borders, where was just them and the waves and the velvety black night sky.

It was still warm, so they made love on deck, beneath the stars. The first time, Emma was on her back, and she could see the stars glittering behind Killian's head. The second time, she was on top, and she saw them again, reflected in his eyes.

This wasn't the beginning of their story -- their story had begun back when she'd first pressed a knife to his throat in the Enchanted Forest -- it was merely the beginning of a new chapter.

They fell asleep in a pile of sweaty, tangled limbs, and woke when the first, grey light of dawn appeared on the horizon.

"I miss the baby," she said.

"Aye, love. Me too. Want to go home?"

"Yea. Let's go home."

\---

_13 years in the future_

Ian turned away from the time portal, wiping at his cheeks.

Emma's heart broke for him. She took him by the shoulders and pulled him into her arms for a hug. "Hey, it's alright," she said gently, stroking the hair at the back of his head. "You didn't do anything wrong. And you don't have to worry about them. They'll be fine. It's a rough couple of hours, but then we have you, and everything's amazing."

He nodded into her shoulder.

"Trust us, lad. There's nothing you need to worry about now except for what flavor ice cream you want."

"Strawberry," Ian said.

Emma shifted so she had her arm around Ian's shoulders. Killian took Ian's other side, and together they shuffled him from the barn.

"Have we mentioned how proud we are of you?" Killian asked in a low voice.

Ian ducked his head, blushing.

"We're serious, kid," Emma said. "We couldn't have done any of that without you."

"You were pretty awesome," Henry added. "I was a little jealous there for a bit."

"Really?" Ian asked.

Henry shrugged. "Yea. I missed you when you left. I think missing you kinda helped me make friends in high school though. And it's the reason I joined hockey. I didn't want to go back to being lonely. So thanks."

Ian grinned. "Pleasure to be of service."

Henry reached out and ruffled his hair, then stuck his hand into his coat pocket. He rummaged around for a bit, then pulled out a gold wedding ring and slipped it back onto his finger.

Ian saw and gasped. "Oh yea! How's Ava?"

"Still pregnant."

"Yea, but for like how much longer?"

Emma chuckled. "Had enough of pregnant ladies, huh?"

"What I want to know," Killian interjected, "Is when you're going to tell us the name of our granddaughter."

"I can't," Henry said. "I'm on strict orders to keep it a secret." But he saw the sudden, knowing smile on Emma's face and groaned. "You already know it, don't you?"

"No, I don't know her name," Emma said. "But I've seen her, and she's cute as hell. I also maybe know when she's going to be born?"

"Ooh, when?" Ian asked, bouncing excitedly as he walked.

Henry's phone started ringing.

" _No fucking way_!" Ian said.

" _Language_ ," Killian growled.

Henry stared at his phone screen, and gulped. "It's Ava," he said, then turned to Emma. "This is it, isn't it?"

Emma smiled.

"I'm gonna be an uncle!" Ian yelled.

"I'm gonna be a dad," Henry said breathlessly.

Killian put his arm around Henry's shoulders and shook him bracingly.

Henry looked at him, and said weakly, "I'm not ready."

Killian chuckled. "It doesn't matter, lad. Your daughter's ready. It's your job to be there for her. _Always_. Can you do that?"

Henry seemed to come back to himself, and started nodding his head vigorously. "Yea, yea I can do that."

"Then you'll be just fine," Killian said.

"Alright," Emma said. "Let's go get Ava to the hospital. Our family's about to get a little bit bigger."

_One chapter closes, another begins._


End file.
